


Between Horns and Halos

by Dalantis



Series: Tales of Horns and Halos [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's True Form (Good Omens), Eventual Happy Ending, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Multi, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:14:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 65,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24931363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalantis/pseuds/Dalantis
Summary: Crowley is a Prince of Hell. Aziraphale is a demoted angel banished to serve his sentence on Earth. This is an alternate version of their love story, in which Crowley is a powerful badass and Aziraphale is obliviously adorable until he's not.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Tales of Horns and Halos [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804336
Comments: 11
Kudos: 175





	1. Devils Delight

**Author's Note:**

> This is my 2nd attempt at writing a longer 'through the ages' storyline that isn't a reversal and i have to admit, i loved writing this one a bit more than my first fiction.  
> Hopefully you guys enjoy this! I tried to add scenes throughout the ages that were not strickly what was shown in the televsion series, because yes i know that can be a tad boring at times. 
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments below! Kudos are also always welcomed!

Kral ripped his clawed hand out of the bloody corpse, watching with disinterest as the former Duke of Hell, Hastur, dropped lifelessly at his feet. In his palm was the corporation’s heart, still slightly beating, thump, thump, …. thump … thump, until finally it stilled completely. 

Behind him, a sharp, slow clap echoed throughout the dimly lit hallway. 

With fangs still glistening with potent venom, slit yellow eyes narrowed as they watched the greatest danger of them all, move ever closer. 

Hell was not a kind place. Not even to the demons who lived within its domain. It was still that much crueler because of the laws set in place by its King. The one and only, Lucifer Morningstar, or Satan, as he is most widely known. That same King who now stared at Kral as though enraptured, eyes filled with a touch of awe, a touch of lust, a touch of hate, a touch of fear, and a touch of pure inconceivable madness. 

“Well done indeed, Marquis Kral~,” Lucifer purred, red eyes glowing bright, “I knew you had it in you, little brother. Killing every single high ranking demon that came to challenge you, that's quite a feat. All that remains between you and my throne is… Beelzebub… and of course, me.”

His smile was both a challenge and a threat as he circled the serpentine demon. Not many in Hell could be defined as attractive, ruthless, powerful, intelligent, and inconceivable, but Lucifer and Kral were two such beings. The only two. Even Beelzebub for all their power and ruthlessness, probably couldn’t take on Kral alone and come out on top. Not without a cunning underhanded plot in place, should their original tactic fail. 

And unfortunately for them, Kral was the one most likely to devise such a trap. 

Kral didn’t move as Lucifer circled him. The demon’s black wings were still a bit crisp from that attack on him using hellfire, before he had fully deflected the attack back towards Hastur, the Duke who had tried to ambush him. 

Kral had proven time and again to all of hell that he was not to be messed with. He had proven time and again that hellfire, was more than just a tool. At least for him.   
It’s a part of him.   
Not all demons could say that.   
For most fallen angels, hellfire was but a means to an end. A way to fight back if needed, a way to heal from holy wounds, a way to survive having lost the Grace and Love of God, their creator, their Mother.   
For Kral, and Lucifer too however, Hellfire was much more than that. It spoke to them, it answered their rage with its own, and it acted as an extension of their will. Of their very souls. Hellfire was an intricate part of their very essence and, it made them the very embodiments of Hell. 

Lucifer reached out a hand as he thought about all of this, caressing the black glittering scales of his former brother, now dotted with the freshly fallen blood of one of his Dukes. He relished the feel of those scales beneath his fingertips, cool, wet, and yet dry. An odd texture and one that reminded him not so subtly of his own bestial form. A hydra; the distant cousin of the serpent. It was not a form he took often, if ever. But it certainly was one of his most powerful forms. 

“Well, Kral~,” Satan purred again, leaning down to breathe hot air against the exposed neck. “how would you like a new assignment? Hmm?”   
His lips caressed the sweat covered skin, unsurprised when this action caused the demon to shiver at his touch.   
“An assignment, Kral, that is worthy of one in your position.”

Kral straightened a bit, wary of this offer as he stepped away, out of range of any further unwelcome contact.   
“New Assssssignment?” The Serpent repeated curiously, tone more than a little guarded. Wise, that. 

“Indeed,” Lucifer grinned, and it was a nasty thing; warped, wicked, and filled with demonic intention. “How much do you remember from BEFORE?”

The serpentine demon stiffened. Heaven was not a thing most fallen dared to think about, let alone discuss. It hurt too much to think on what had been lost. What could never be regained. 

“I remember enough,” Kral admitted after a moment of silent contemplation. “Why?”

Lucifer leered at the serpent. “Because I finally found a way into Her Garden.”

Kral flinched back at the words, eyes wide and startled. He couldn’t stop the reaction. No one had dared to mention their Mother in a very long time. And the Garden… his Garden…   
“The Garden…” Kral repeated out loud.

“For Her humans,” Lucifer nodded, speaking as though Kral didn’t know what the Garden meant. As if he had somehow forgotten that the creation of humanity was what had started the entire war, all those years ago. As if the Marquis couldn’t remember that it was, he, who had helped design that Garden, a thousand years ago. 

“And thissss assssignment hassss to do with Her, how?” he questioned, but he knew. Oh, he knew what it was Lucifer was saying, but he couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around the idea. The Garden, what he had created for Her a thousand years ago. A chance to stick it to Heaven, once and for all. 

Lucifer’s eyes flared red and Kral felt the intense heat as the hellfire began to surge up around them, answering the devils call, his rage, his excitement, and his thirst for revenge.   
But it never touched Kral. 

If Lucifer noticed this, he didn’t say a word about it, then again, why would he? It meant Kral was not as breakable or weak as Lucifer liked himself to believe. It was not something the devil would ever dare acknowledge. 

“Because Kral,” Satan crowed, eyes cold and a touch wild, “you will cause their fall from her Grace, and oh my, if that isn’t karma at its finest, don’t you think? Her losing her precious humans because of us, who She Felled from her love. From her Grace. For an eternity.”

Kral was frozen in place as the devil cackled. All the demons in the nearby vicinity shook in fear at the sound, but none understood the true madness behind it better than Kral. And that was why, wasn’t it? 

That was why Lucifer had come to him with this. It wasn’t just that Kral had killed every demon in hell but the top two in the past thousand years. It wasn’t just a way to make certain Kral couldn’t acquire the throne by separating the demon from Hell for a time. It wasn’t just because Kral could whisper to hellfire as Lucifer could and that scared the devil.   
No, the King of Hell had come and chosen Kral because he remembered the past just as much as Kral himself did. And he knew, of all the demons in Hell, Kral had as much right to want to take revenge as Lucifer himself, if not more. Because once upon a time they were a family. Once upon a time they were friends. And they had been betrayed. Kral especially.   
Lucifer may have fallen back then, with all those who followed him in his rebellion, but Kral had come later. Much later. 

The former Archangel hadn’t dared lift a finger against either side back then, not to hurt, but he had attempted to heal. To defend. To make peace between the angels and the rebels. Lucifer had found him both amusing and deliciously innocent back then, but Kral knew She had to have a plan, so he believed in Her and in Heaven. He believed he was doing the right thing by trying to form a friendly relation between the fallen below and the angels above, he believed in Her mercy, and ultimately his belief led to his arrest, his imprisonment, his trial, and finally, his punishment. 

Kral shivered at the cascade of memories depicting the pain, humiliation, and the shame he had been made to serve all those years ago. He could remember the cries of horror and hate from those he had once called brothers. Those whom he had once considered friends. He could remember being mocked, scorned, and ultimately, he remembered being cast from heaven, left to fall, left to burn, and left to change. Alone. Always alone. 

Hell was not a nice place. It was not kind to the denizens who lived within its walls. 

Kral discovered this firsthand when he landed on his back near a burning sulfuric pit. When he crawled, bones and wings shattered, skin blistered and melted, into that sulfur, wishing, begging to die. He discovered this truth when the hellfire wrapped around him, filling his essence with demonic energy, laying claim to his soul, to his pain, to his rage, and to his thirst for vengeance. It answered those emotions within him with its own all-encompassing power, and he welcomed it. It burned within him and he savored the only true feeling his numbed mind and body could sense at that time; pain.

Kral had allowed the memories of that betrayal by Heaven to wash over him back then, and burn into his mind like a brand, never to be lifted. Never forgotten. He allowed the hate for those who felt they had the right to judge him to fester within his heart. 

And yet… and yet… 

despite the hate and despite all those bitter emotions regarding those he had once called family, he allowed Her love and the belief he held in Her, even as he fell, to become a light deeply buried within a hollowed out shell carved of brimstone within his very core. Who he had once been, buried, lost, but still there… though he refused to ever admit it, even to himself. Because that meant, ultimately, She hadn’t left him. That despite everything, maybe, She still loved him. 

And for a demon, that love was excruciating. Agonizing. Burning the demonic essence within, even as the Grace healed that burn. Over and Over. An endless circle of torment and desperately craved affection. None in Hell suffered as badly. None but Kral, a former Archangel of Glory and of Fate. A former Archangel who had stood at the side of God and had fallen for it, due to the envy and greed and jealousy of those around him. An Archangel who had done nothing but love those considered unlovable. 

All these years, fighting savagely in Hell to survive, to grow, to learn, and to conquer those who would dare try and belittle him for that love. Who would dare try and place him underfoot as though what he had done was worse than their own rebellious intentions; None could, even if they wanted to. 

Kral was powerful despite his status as a Fallen Angel. And though Hell loved to hate, none, be it Lucifer or even Beelzebub themselves, could deny that they couldn’t loathe the only Archangel who had stood in their defense. 

He, just as Lucifer had once done, had stepped from that sulfuric pit, and refused to become anything less than what he had been born to be. And so here he was. The very revenge he had imagined and thirsted for all these years trapped in this Hell Hole. Suddenly, it was being handed to him on a silver platter by the King of Hell himself. 

Not revenge against Her, but revenge against Heaven and their own self-sacrilegious ways. It hurt to Fall, but it hurt worse to know why he Fell and to not regret it, despite the pain of betrayal. He had been in the right, and he knew it. They all did. Even Lucifer. Maybe that’s why the King now was offering him an escape from this dismal realm. He was offering Kral, more than just revenge. He was offering him an escape; Freedom from a realm Kral could never truly belong. It wasn’t kindness or mercy. If anything, Lucifer wanted Kral gone to ensure his throne, and yet Kral liked to imagine it was more than that. 

“So, what do you say?” Lucifer grinned, eyes far too knowing. 

And Kral’s lips twisted into a reflecting sneer. Fine then, he thought, why waste such an opportunity. 

“I accccccept,” he hissed, as the small little black tattoo on the side of his head reared up and hissed its own agreement.


	2. Rise in the East of Eden, 4000 BC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale meets a dangerously sexy demon.

Aziraphale was not a very good gate keeper, but a perfect guardian if he did say so himself. He was a loyal warrior of Heaven and a protector of the humans under God, but as far as keeping a gate, well… not so much. 

Okay, so yes, he was easily distracted. He loved the garden. He loved walking around amongst the colorful vegetation. He loved petting and speaking with the unique creatures there within the Garden. And most importantly, he loved to just watch the two humans as they lived out each day within the sanctuary God had granted them. 

And it was because of this fascination of his, concerning the Garden and its inhabitants, that he never noticed that for several long months he was being spied upon. That for several months, Lucifer himself had come up to the surface of the desert outside the Garden and had regarded the gates and their keepers, checking for traps and possible openings. That Lucifer himself had grinned victoriously when he noticed the East Gate’s keeper lacking in concentration. 

And so it was that the angel Aziraphale also never noticed when several weeks later, a new demonic being rose from the sands outside the garden, and he also didn’t see it when a long, thin, black and red creature slithered through a small nearly unnoticeable crack between the gate and the wall where he should have been standing guard. As the creature slithered through, the angel remained completely unaware until he heard a slight hiss off to his right. 

Turning with his usual ounce of curiosity, the angel Aziraphale spied the giant slithery form from a distance, but never put two and two together, thinking it just another unique unseen beast of the Garden. Of course something about the creature did niggle at his thoughts, alerting him that there may be something amiss with the odd creature, but no demons had ever dared to show themselves on Earth before (at least not that he had noticed). In so thinking this, the poor innocent little angel shoved the preposterous suggestion out of his mind and he turned his attention back on the humans whom he adored. 

As it happened, Aziraphale began to see more and more of that odd graceful creature whom he had come to know was now called a serpent. Not because he was fascinated by it in any particular way (which okay, he was a bit), but mostly because the serpent seemed to get on so well with the two humans in the garden. 

From the beginning, since the moment he saw that new creature in the underbrush, he had watched with utter amazement as it all but wrapped itself around the humans who laughed and spoke with it, as though the serpent could answer their softly spoken words. As though the serpent and the two humans were having a conversation. As though they were friends. 

Perhaps he was a bit jealous, but he wished he too could speak with the serpent and the humans. To hear their thoughts, to speak with them on the wonders of the garden. To know them as he knew the other angels in heaven. Instead Aziraphale stayed watching them from afar, atop the eastern gate, a bit envious of their laughter, their touches, and their walks together within the garden. 

Perhaps it was because he had convinced himself that the serpent was their friend, and therefore ultimately his friend, that he never suspected the truth. That he never imagined the ultimate betrayal would come in the form of a small, deliciously appealing, red apple. 

The storm in the air couldn’t be missed that day, when Aziraphale was for once keeping the gate as he had been ordered to. It drew his attention and almost immediately he realized something had happened. That something was wrong.

When the sky rumbled and white fire flashed through the sky, Aziraphale could only drop to his knees in horror as he heard the words of their Lord speak to the humans. He listened as Adam blamed Eve and Eve… she blamed the serpent. The serpent who slithered even now within the grass nearby, but this time away from the two humans, rather than towards them. With horror, the angel watched as the Serpent all but lifted its head in mockery of Heaven and sneered upwards. Almost daring God, or maybe the Archangels above, to come down and destroy him for his deception. For the part he had played in what would come to be considered the first sin. 

And the angel blamed himself for this injustice. 

Perhaps that was why Aziraphale gave away his sword that day. Why he wished the two humans the best of luck as they walked out into the burning sands, alone, cast out, abandoned. He felt it was his fault that the two humans he adored had been banished from their sanctuary. His fault, for not having stopped the demon at the very start of all this when it had first appeared. His fault, for giving in to distraction. 

And so, he was shocked, truly, when that same demonic serpent from before slithered up onto the wall beside him. And he was even more surprised when that serpent changed form, and instead of a large beautiful but deadly snake, he found himself entranced by the appearance of a beautiful but deadly man. And truly the words beautiful and deadly, were very accurate descriptions of the other. 

The demon had the most stunning, long, crimson curls. They reached low, nearly past his waist. And his eyes… a unique yellow amber with bold black serpentine pupils. His skin was a pale ivory, littered with star-like freckles. And his wings… they were breathtaking; the most gorgeous silky black. 

Still, despite the beauty of this demonic presence, what truly captured the angel’s attention was how dangerous the other still was. He could see it in the way the demon stood so stiffly, the way he eyed the angel in warning, and the way his wings were sharpened like blades. He could see it in how the other’s hands were sharpened claws, and how despite the fragility of his human form, the other was ready to attack at a split second’s notice, his body poised for fight or flight. 

“That went down like a lead balloon,” the demon spoke. 

And my, even his voice was beautiful and deadly. It was almost honeyed with how his words hissed smoothly together, and yet… there was a slight husk to it, as though he had been in a fire or had breathed in a lung full of smoke. 

“Yes, it… it did,” Aziraphale answered, suddenly a bit uncertain. 

Should he even be talking with this demon? He had betrayed the humans. The humans Aziraphale had loved! He tightened his hands into fists and the demon noticed, his own fingers stretching out, flexing, the clawed tips glinting dangerously in the shine of the sun. It was an obvious warning. 

Both were silent, on edge. 

Aziraphale didn’t know what this demon wanted with him, but he wasn’t about to let it try anything. He was fully prepared to smite if he had to. Already, the angel began mentally calling up a wisp of power within himself, but then something remarkable happened. The serpent sighed and relaxed the tension in his shoulders, his wings softening as his guard suddenly lowered, and the claws vanished, leaving behind soft unblemished skin.

The angel however only stiffened further, thinking it a trick. This was a demon after all. Couldn’t be too careful. It was probably trying to deceive Aziraphale into lowering his guard.  
“You are interessssting, angel,” the demon hissed with an almost amused tone. “Mosssst would have attacked me by now.”

“Yes, well… it’s too late to do anything to try and stop you now anyways. The damage is done.” Aziraphale crossed his arms, eyeing the two humans at a distance. “Unless you attack me, I see no reason to be hostile.”

The demon was silent, eyes aglow, as it stared and studied the gate keeper. Aziraphale shifted uneasily under the intense gaze being directed towards him.  
“What?” the angel finally snapped after several minutes of the long drawn out silence.

The demon smirked before glancing around the angel’s body, eyes furrowed with confusion, as though searching for something. 

“Didn’t you have a ssssword, angel?”

Aziraphale stiffened at the question. “Err…”

The serpent hiss-laughed. “Losssst it already, did you?” it mocked him. 

Aziraphale looked away, suddenly feeling a tad timid. 

“N-No, I…” he hesitated. What if the serpent attacked him knowing the sword was no longer with him? “I… I may have…have…givenitaway” his words were mumbled and spoken almost in a whisper, but the way the demon reacted, its wings drawing back and mouth agape in open shock, he had no doubt the other had heard him. 

“You what?!” it shouted, incredulous all the same.

Aziraphale turned to him with a grumble. 

“I gave it away!” he shouted, before trying to explain himself. “The humans, they were kicked out, and it’s dangerous out there, you know? No angels to protect them now. And the woman, she’s pregnant with child, and they aren’t used to defending themselves, and I didn’t want them to freeze during the cold desert nights. I mean the desert can get downright chilly. And what if they starve or an animal attacks them? I couldn’t just let that happen, and I didn’t want to just assume that they were taught anything about survival, so I wanted to increase their chances while wandering alone, and… and… stop laughing, you vile fiend!”

The serpentine demon was hunched over, its entire form shivering with laughter as it all but fell to the ground, rolling. It’s eyes, so beautiful, were even more stunning as they filled with water and seemed to shimmer when caught in the light of the sun. 

Aziraphale could feel his face burning but refused to let his mortification show as he turned away, uncertain how to react to this mockery of his humiliation. This demon was just so… different than what he had imagined. He wanted to be angry at the other, to shout at him, to force the demon to stop laughing due to his failure, but instead he found himself oddly chuckling alongside the demon. 

He had of course, like all angels, heard the stories of the Fallen’s wickedness and evil deeds from the Archangels, but despite this… other than the whole temptation with an apple thing, this demon hadn’t done anything. It hadn’t attacked him. It hadn’t threatened him. It hadn’t even spewed a single vile word against God, the humans, or the angel himself. No, if anything, the demon had seemed… entertained by Aziraphale. Almost… pleasant. 

No, no. Certainly it was just a trick.

Breathing hard, the demon shook his head, still grinning as he finally got back up onto shaky limbs. His fangs were pressed against the skin of his bottom lip and his cheeks were a rather delightful shade of pink. And Aziraphale, guardian of the eastern gate of Eden and cherub of heaven, found the sight oddly riveting and… perhaps if he was being honest, perhaps the sight was also a bit… well, heavenly. 

“Oh man,” the demon continued to snicker, oblivious to the angel’s dangerous thoughts, “I haven’t laughed like that …ever. That wasssss great, really, thank you angel.”

Aziraphale scoffed but couldn’t stop the slight smile that twitched into shape across rosy lips. 

“Yes well, … it may be amusing, but I know I did wrong,” he whispered, wringing his hands. “May have helped the humans, but I did just give away a sword of heaven. Doubt Michael will be very pleased.”

The demon suddenly stiffened and Aziraphale was startled to see real rage behind its eyes. He stepped back without thought due a brief surge of apprehension. The movement was enough that it re-drew the demon’s attention. With a soft exhale, the demon continued to glower, but it let go of the angry vibes it had just been radiating. 

‘To soothe me’. The angel realized, before his apprehension flared back up. ‘No, probably another trick to get me to lower my guard.’ 

“You’re an angel, I don’t think you can do wrong,” the demon continued and once again, Aziraphale was left stunned. Did the demon just… try to comfort him?  
Breathing a laugh, but was assuredly, utterly baffled, Aziraphale rambled on with, “Oh, well, thank you my dear, I guess… but I can’t say heaven will agree with you, but…”

“You can call me Crowley,” the demon interrupted, it’s gaze intensely serious. 

The angel studied the other in repeated bewilderment. 

“M-My name is Aziraphale,” he finally answered in reply. 

“Asssszzzziraphale, A-zir-a-phale, Zira…” the serpent tasted the name for a moment, before a pleased sort of expression crossed his face. “yeah, it suits you, Zzzzira."

Aziraphale flushed but quickly tried to hide his embarrassment with a mocking scowl. It really came out as more of a grimace. 

“It’s Aziraphale, besides, Crowley is an odd name. I expected something more… demonic. Asmodeus maybe…”

“Taken.”

“Or Mephistopheles,” the angel continued.

“Also, taken, and hideous by the way,” Crowley pointed out, “besides, Crowley I think just… suits me better than any other name.”

“Hmm,” Aziraphale studied the other, taking in the large slender black wings, reminding him of a black bird he had once seen within the garden. “Yes, yes, I suppose it does.”


	3. Compensation and Criticism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both demon and angel discover the consequences of Eden. And we find out a bit more about who Kral might have been and why he Fell.

Kral was still thinking about the angel he had met upon the wall as he slithered his way back down into the bowels of Hell. He had told the angel his name was Crowley. Why? Who knows, but Kral liked to think it was because up on the surface, everything just seemed… better. Newer. And Kral felt like on the surface that maybe, he too could become something newer and better. Not a known torturer of Hell. Not a high demon. Not even a Fallen Angel, but maybe he could just be known as being himself. The real him under the scars he now carried. Not an angel. Not a demon. Just him, an entirely unique being. 

Kral wasn’t overly shocked when Hastur, the moron who never stopped trying, ambushed him on the way back to the throne room. Per their usual bout with one another, Kral (who never let down his guard within the demonic realm especially when alone) was fully prepared for the attempt. With a dodge, a twist, and a flash of venom fueled fangs, he watched with a pleased expression as the duke collapsed to the floor. Once again, discorporated. The paperwork would be a bitch. 

“Muzzt you do that every time?” The voice of Beelzebub came from down the hall as they approached.

Kral smirked, shrugging, as he licked the blood from his mouth with a flick of his forked tongue. 

“Tell thisss idiot to sssstay away from me and it wouldn’t happen assss often.”

“Noted,” the prince replied, glaring down at the body of the duke before looking back towards Kral. “Lucifer is pleazzed with you, Marquis Kral. Come along, he iz waiting.”

Kral followed at a leisurely pace as he waltzed down the hall and around various corners, nearly running into a handful of demons who jumped and ran at the sight of the infamous Marquis of Hell. Kral nearly laughed out loud when two of the lesser demons had ran into one another, both bouncing across the floor in their rush to escape him, well aware of the possibility that Kral could try and take their miserable life just to get a laugh. It was his right, after all, as the third most ranking demon within Hell. He was demonic royalty and none would punish him if he used his title to cause a bit of chaos, just for fun. 

“Kral,” the voice of Lucifer greeted him as the serpent sauntered into the throne room.

The Marquis reluctantly knelt but did not lower his head before the King. His act of kneeling was a show of respect for the positions of power they both currently held, not to be taken as recognition towards Lucifer’s dominance over him. One day the two of them would be forced to go head to head in a fight for that position of power, but for now, Kral would bide his time, and Lucifer would let him. 

“The missssion issss complete,” Kral hissed, standing. “the humansss have been casssst out.”

“Excellently done” Lucifer’s eyes glowed, filled with traces of an otherworldly power and true delight. “Do you realize Kral, that this makes you the originator of the very first sin? Do you realize what an honor that is?”

Kral hissed. “Of coursssse.”

They both knew the first true sin had occurred in heaven thousands of years ago, but putting it out there like this, before the other demons in attendance as an ‘irreplaceable honor’, would set the stage for their growing rivalry. Lucifer wanted Kral to be seen by the lesser demons as a threat to the throne. He wanted his brother to be given the proper respect he deserved. It would make destroying him all the sweeter when the time comes. 

Lucifer’s grin was sharp. “Good. Then you also know exactly why it is your being given another promotion.”

Beelzebub stiffened and Kral leered at the King of Hell. “Oh really?”

Lucifer eyed him. Once brothers, now King and subordinate, but soon they would be enemies of equal standing, and both knew, it would be a fight to the death when that day came. For right now, they played each day like a chess board, a game, moving their pieces into position. It was a competition that Lucifer was determined to win.

“I welcome you back to Hell, Kral, Prince of Deceit and Architect of Sin, your work has only just begun.”

~~

Aziraphale fretted as he stood before the Archangels within their private, glistening, spotless, glass office. They had chosen the glass structure with obvious intent to shame Aziraphale publicly as he stood before four of the nine Archangels; allowing all those in passing to stare in and watch as he was thoroughly chewed out by his superiors. 

“I am so very disappointed in you, Aziraphale,” Gabriel sighed. 

“Indeed”, Michael spoke up. “Your actions were unbecoming of one in your position and of your rank.”

“Due punishment must be dealt,” Uriel nodded.

“Allow me to handle that portion, please,” Sandalphon sneered.

“What a wonderful idea,” Gabriel agreed happily, “you always do such a… marvelous job Sandalphon, punishing those who are in the wrong and teaching them a valuable lesson that they won’t soon forget.”

Aziraphale shivered.

“Look, I understand that I was in the wrong for not acting sooner, but I can’t control what the demon chose to do.”

“No,” Uriel surprisingly agreed, “but you could have controlled watching the gate as your duty had dictated. You also could have been responsible enough not to misplace your sword.”

“A sword, mind you, that was on loan,” Michael growled, annoyed.

Aziraphale shuffled nervously. 

“Stop moving!” Gabriel demanded.

Aziraphale froze.

“I mean, God herself asked me about the sword and as I told her, it is around… someplace, I just…”

“The point is, Aziraphale, what you did was absolutely unacceptable, and therefore,” Gabriel spoke, eyes sharp and voice even sharper, despite the smile painted upon his face, “you shall be demoted.”

“What?!” Aziraphale gasped.

Even Uriel and Michael seemed surprised. Sandalphon however, just grinned that much wider. 

“Gabriel, you don’t mean to say…” Uriel started, but Gabriel ignored her.

“A cherub has very particular traits, do they not?” the Archangel spoke as he stood and circled the other like a predator stalking prey. 

Aziraphale swallowed nervously. 

“Four heads, correct? Thousands of eyes within your four wings. So many traits that differ from a Principality. Tell me, Sandalphon, what are the traits of a Principality?”

Sandalphon’s eyes lit with pleasure. 

“One head, two wings, and only two eyes, if I remember correctly,” he spoke, his delighted tone chilling to all within the room. 

“Exactly,” Gabriel grinned.

“Gabriel,” Michael spoke up, eyes narrowed, and fists tightened. “No.”

Gabriel eyed his brother. Despite appearances amongst the angels, no one doubted who was the highest power under God. Michael was the first of the Archangels, and not even Gabriel had authority over him. 

“None would dare do what he did again if we make an example of him, Michael,” Gabriel spoke slow and deliberate and using words that were very, very familiar. “You know this as well as I.”

Michael eyed his younger brother before glancing at Aziraphale. Despite half agreeing with Gabriel’s intentions, Michael couldn’t help but remember his Fallen brothers.   
His twin the Morningstar aside, Michael thought of his youngest brother and what little memories of him he had, that still remained. He could almost hear his expressive voice. How his brother had spoken with passion of their Mother’s mercy and grace, proclaiming love was the worst punishment against someone who had acted out in hate. His brother who even in the face of total annihilation, had spoken up for what he believed in and questioned if this Falling had been the true Will of God. 

A brother who Michael himself had betrayed by agreeing with what Gabriel had considered ‘justice’ and what he himself had considered a righteous ‘example’ for the other angels. That was until the punishment began and he realized the true magnitude and wrongness of what it was they were doing to one of their own kind. To family. He had felt sick back then, but never stopped it. And now it haunted him.

“No,” Michael repeated the word, past memories fading with an air of sorrow. 

Michael didn’t care about Aziraphale, but he wouldn’t allow himself to make the same mistaken again. Not again. He was older now and more mature than he had been a thousand years ago. He would not allow his anger to cloud his rational thought. Not this time.

Gabriel frowned, but sighed, conceding. He also remembered the past but did not regret it as Michael obviously did. As Michael obviously still does. 

“Fine, the demotion in title still stands. You are herby a Principality, Aziraphale,” Gabriel spoke, taking in the pale angel standing before him with disgust. “Your powers will be limited to that of a principality unless Heaven commands otherwise. And you shall serve your extended punishment…” he grinned as an idea came to him, “…on Earth.”

Sandalphon laughed with pleasure. 

Uriel seemed okay with this, and even Michael nodded in agreement. For most angels, this was the ultimate punishment. To be sent away from Heaven and made to wander amongst the humans… truly, a deplorable thing. For Aziraphale however, it was a relief. He dared not show this though, fearing they would change the penalty. 

“I understand,” he said instead, thankful for Michael’s defense on his behalf. 

He could hazily remember the same sort of punishment that Gabriel had discussed giving to him, happening to another angel. An Archangel, if remembered right. Punished before a mass audience of his peers and subordinates. It was unheard of, especially back then, that much more because it was happening to an Archangel. 

Not even Lucifer had been given such a humiliating and cruel punishment. Aziraphale had not been in attendance that day of course, unable to stomach the idea, but he had heard about it as all angels had. How the Archangels wings had been broken and ripped out, one feather at a time. How the Archangels halo had been taken and shattered. How their voice had been… well, it was cruel to say the least. The very thought of such a punishment had been too much for most angels to even consider. Those who had watched it had said it was far worse to witness than imagined. 

The name of that Archangel who had been so cruelly treated and then Felled, had been wiped from the memory of all angels in heaven, but Aziraphale could still hazily remember his appearance. He hadn’t known him personally by any means, but he had met him once or twice, he was sure. So many years have passed since this, making his appearance difficult to recall, but Aziraphale did remember, only marginally, that the other had the most beautiful shade of red hair.


	4. Cain and Able, 4005 BC, After Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our first step through time with Crowley and Aziraphale. Not everything was sunshine and roses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE: Crowley and Kral are the same person, but Kral is his demonic identity (the monster he believes he is after Falling) and Crowley is who he wants to be, because in his eyes, "Crowley" is the embodiment of his own God given free will, love, and remaining Grace.

The angel had stayed close to the humans once they had established themselves a home. He lived with them, a familiar guardian, and from a distance, Crowley too kept a close eye upon the first humans and their offspring. He and Aziraphale never really interacted, and they hardly acknowledge one another, but that didn’t mean they completely ignored one another’s existence entirely. The angel did not trust the demon. He had been taught since he was a fledgling, shortly after the great Rebellion, that demons were wicked, untrustworthy, corrupt, and cruel beings who would tempt and manipulate any who cross their path. 

While the demon certainly hadn’t shown any signs of this behavior, Aziraphale was on his guard, watching and waiting, expecting it. After all, the Serpent certainly had tempted Eve with an apple, hadn’t he? That must mean he was up to no good. Still, despite his fears, Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel comfortable in the other’s presence. It was odd, almost warm. 

Something that only angels can sense from locations, objects, and people are feelings of love. It was something that the fallen had lost after the rebellion. They could sense sinful intentions and even lust or desire, but they cannot sense love or positive sentiments. Strangely though, since the day he had met the odd creature, Aziraphale had felt a warmth from the other that, though slight, couldn’t be anything but love. It was an odd and completely ridiculous idea to consider, a demon loving something or someone, but it was there. Completely unmistakable.

And that love only grew as the demon stayed close to the first humans, and Aziraphale suddenly thought, oh he must love them, the humans! How strange that a demon loves a couple humans, but he couldn’t imagine that love radiating for any other reason. Certainly, in the middle of nowhere there was nothing else around that could cause that love to strengthen as it had been for the past several decades, and yet it was growing each and every day just a little bit stronger. Therefore, logically, it was the humans the demon loved, right?

Crowley, if he could have heard the angel’s thoughts, probably would have facepalmed. It certainly wasn’t the humans that he had come to care for, though he couldn’t say he disliked them. Humans were fascinating and he did enjoy learning about-and-from them, but the angel… that puffy cloud-like hair, his icy ocean blue eyes, his soft marshmallow like appearance, and unique personality. Everything about the angel was warm, loving, accepting, yet defensive, witty, and sharp. An enigma, the best of its kind.

Granted, Crowley wasn’t an idiot. He knew the angel was a danger to him and so he kept his distance, but there was just something alluring about the other. If heaven thought demons could tempt, Crowley would be the first to point a finger at Aziraphale, because to Crowley, the angel was temptation in it’s most decimating form. 

Their every interaction pulled the demon in further. He wanted to touch that hair. To comfort the angel’s sorrow. To speak with his angelic counterpart. To hear his thoughts. It was a heavenly emotion, love, and it scared Crowley more than he wished to admit. To feel such sensations after Falling; after having his (nearly) entire grace burned out of him, such emotions were painful to feel, to accept, and even more difficult to rationalize, and so he pushed them aside to contemplate another day. He pushed them aside for another century or two, maybe three, until he could more easily consider them and the ramifications of such a feeling. 

Because he knew if Hell ever found out about his ‘fraternizing’ with an angel, and most importantly, if they ever discovered that small lasting piece of grace that remained buried within the heart of his core, veiled from demonic senses by his own dark essence, he knew that they would destroy him without hesitation. Divinity did not belong in Hell and so his light would be stomped out should it ever be noticed.

And so he never let it show. He tried to remain distant and cold and ruthless to all demons and humans who came up to him, but the angel was different. He and Aziraphale from time to time would sit and talk as though friends. Other times they would be at one another’s throats, hissing and arguing about the little things and the big. Still, neither attempted to destroy the other unless they felt truly threatened, and really, it was rare that such a thing ever occurred during those first few hundred years together after the Garden. 

Things changed with time of course and time brought with it the birth of the first ever children. Crowley thought humans were fascinating, but babies, he felt the oddest urge to wrap them up and protect that innocence. 

He did not let these urges show in the beginning. He kept his distance from the odd little family, but he couldn’t help but feel a certain affection for the little humans each time he spied a flash of little fingers and tiny feet. Cain and Able were, to Crowley, two of the most beautiful sights he had ever laid eyes upon. So pure. So sweet. So beautiful. 

When the angel wasn’t around, busy doing whatever it is angels do, Crowley would sneak past the humans in his serpent form, and he would wrap himself around or near the children, guarding them as they grew older, protecting them. He enjoyed the feel of those little hands wrapping around his scaly body. He enjoyed the touch of soft skin, not yet roughened from work in the fields to forge a living, as it brushed against smooth scales. He enjoyed the sound of the baby gurgles and their small addicting giggles.   
Crowley found he entirely adored the little rascals, despite his misgivings. 

As Cain and Able grew older, those feelings only grew that much stronger. It was scary and wrong, and yet nothing had ever felt so right. To give love and be loved in return. 

If Adam or Eve ever recognized the serpent that often could be found playing with their children, they never spoke to him. Neither did they seem to care that the serpent was with their little human offspring in the grassy fields, alone and unobserved. If anything, Eve looked… relieved, almost. It was an odd mix of emotions the first time the serpent and Eve locked eyes after the garden fiasco, neither had spoken a word, but both seemed to come to an understanding as Eve walked over to Adam, and Crowley went back towards the children. It was almost like Eve had forgiven the Serpent for the part it had played, but that was a ridiculous notion and not one the demon often entertained.

Aziraphale too never said anything when he saw the serpent with the kids. He didn’t leave him alone with them, but he never stopped the little humans from interacting with the demon either. If anything, the angel almost looked… curious or maybe even envious. 

Crowley wanted to talk with the other, but never felt it was the right timing to do so, unless the angel approached him first when alone at night. 

Humans do eventually grow up, and as Cain and Able grew into adulthood, Crowley took on his more human appearance alongside them. He spoke to the two brothers about the plants, telling them of what he had seen in Eden before they were born. He talked about the sky, about the stars, about the oceans and how they were new and wonderous. He never let himself think about his own part in their creation. He never let himself feel a single surge of sorrow for having been cast from Heaven. 

“Dohd (Uncle) Crowley,” Able would ask him, “what kind of plants are these?”

“Dohd Crowley,” Cain would say, “Where does rain come from?”

“Dohd Crowley,” they would both call, and Crowley would always answer. He could never deny them. Despite his flippant attitude, sarcastic nature, and rather aggressive hissing, the two little humans never shied away. Never feared him. 

One might think that the first sin of deception was the worst sin in human history, but many would argue it was the first murder. Cain killed Able on a beautiful sunny afternoon, and Crowley could only stare at the ground where a patch of blood had been left in its wake. Blood of an innocent that seemed to cry out to the heavens. Unrelenting in its desperate plea. A plea that it seemed only Kral could hear. 

Now Cain was gone, banished by God much like his parents, cursed to wander the earth until death, alone, marked, hunted, …and Crowley was to blame. He had to be, right? Cain had been an innocent little human, pure from birth, and Crowley had tainted him, like he tainted everything he touches. Tainted by a love that shouldn’t exist.

“You!” a voice shouted over the ringing in his ears, “this is your fault!” the angel had accused him. 

And Kral, the newly named Prince of Hell who had blood on his hands, couldn’t disagree. 

He didn’t even resist when the angel beat him nearly to discorporation. He never tried to fight back, because he deserved it, didn’t he? This was his fault. Everything he touches, he destroys.


	5. Mesopotamia, 3000 BC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale reunite at the flood. 
> 
> Crowley is a soft badass.

Aziraphale had fled to the south after his rather bloody departure with said demon, and Kral, once Adam and Eve passed, continued to the north. It was unsurprising then that they never met during that period, having started out in opposite directions, but eventually, hundreds of years later, it was bound to happen. And happen it did. 

When the demon had noticed the angel from a distance, he had been astounded, to say the least. 

“Well, well, well. Look what fell from the heavens,” Crowley teased. 

In the hundreds of years that the demon had now been amongst the humans, he had slowly learned to control his hissing. Though it did occasionally make itself known when he was emotional or nervous, or amid a temptation. That was another title he had gained the past thousand years since the Garden; since Cain. The Original Tempter. 

The angel blinked, just as startled to see his counterpart. And perhaps a touch guilty, following the events of their last meeting together. 

The angel had vanished back then, leaving Crowley to lie in the sands, staining each individual grain a deep shade of red; alone and bleeding. Aziraphale had lost his temper and it was only after he had nearly beaten the serpentine demon into discorporation in a fit of heavenly (or at least that’s what he called it) wrath, that he remembered himself and pulled away. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it at the time, but neither could he bring himself to finish the demon off. 

Perhaps it would have been a mercy to have done so, but Aziraphale had been horrified by his own rage once he regained rational thought and he had fled before he dared to look upon the other and see just how bad the damage dealt had been. He never went back. He never sought his counterpart out either the past thousand years. And neither did they meet by chance, not until now. 

“Crowley… oh. Hello,” Aziraphale spoke bluntly, his tone guarded.

Crowley just smirked. It was how he hid his pain, under a thick layer of humor.

“What? Haven’t you missed me Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale hummed but did not react beyond a quick quirk of the eyebrow. 

Crowley felt himself frown. He was certain that those words would have gotten a rise out of the other, but alas, nothing. Instead, the angel seemed… sad? Disturbed maybe, and the demon didn’t think it was only because of how they had last parted. 

No, the angel seemed distracted, but not by the demon. His eyes flickered between Crowley and the humans down below.

“What are you looking at?” the demon questioned him curiously, eyeing the large wooden boat and the humans standing around it. 

Several animals were paired up in two’s, being led inside. Just what was going on? 

“Are they… having a parade or something?”

The angel snorted, but still did not react beyond that. 

“Of course not,” Aziraphale finally spoke as the demon stared at him, unblinking.

“Then what?” Crowley urged.

The angel looked up at the sky dismally. “She is going to wipe them all out.”

Crowley stiffened; his own eyes locked on the angel. “What?”

The angel nodded, really looking at the demon for the first time. Taking in the others unchanged appearance. 

‘Still as beautiful as ever, this demon’, Aziraphale thought to himself, before pushing the thought harshly away. 

“The humans,” he waved in their general direction, “She is going to drown them all.”

The demon was silent for several minutes, and Aziraphale was startled to see the other almost looked… distraught. How very peculiar this demon was. How very… soft. 

“Even the children?” the demon whispered, watching with indifference as a unicorn slipped free of its bindings. 

Aziraphale frowned regrettably, also watching the unicorn. “Yes, even them.”

Kral closed his eyes as pain surged through his core, praying to the God of Heaven whom he shouldn’t even believe in, but does. Questioning Her Will as he had in heaven without hope of an answer. Why Lord? Why now? Why the kids? Why kill the humans You love? Why here? Why me? Why did I end up here? Was it to cause me more pain? Further punishment for a tainted love?

And of course, as usual, She never answered him. Not in words. 

The first sprinkling of rain had him opening his eyes. He noticed immediately that the angel was gone. No doubt he had fled, knowing he couldn’t change anything. Crowley though, he snarled his lip with outrage. ‘I am not an angel though, am I? Watch me, Lord, as I save the humans you claim to love.’

The small serpent tattoo on the side of his face hissed its agreement and a dark shadow swept out of it like smoke, claiming his humanoid form theatrically before it took the shape of a giant winged scale covered creature, man-shaped, but obviously not human. 

With a flap of his wings, the demon vanished from the sight of the humans down below near the ark who had begun to panic as the rain waters slowly rose around them, much faster and much more deadly than rainwater ever had been before. The demon sped from child to child, hurrying, trying so desperately to save as many as he could before the waters rose too high and became too rough. 

He understood, in a slightly manic way, the plan of God. He could feel the unusual traces of dark magic around him. He could sense the Nephilim hidden within the land. He knew Her intention and made certain not to touch a single Nephilim, despite the pain that tore at him for those who were but children… still, even he would not dare to tempt Her hand more than was necessary. Instead he focused his powers on saving the human children, scooping them up with his claws before teleporting them down below within the bowels of the large wooden boat. He didn’t dare to hope that heaven wouldn’t act against him, but at the same time, he knew he couldn’t sit back and do nothing, even if they did. 

As the rain waters began to drown all humans and Nephilim alike within the vicinity, Crowley flew as hard and as fast as he could until the weather made it impossible to find anyone within the rising waters and harshly pounding rain. Each drop hit him with a weight that told the demon he would likely be sore for a while, but he could handle it if it meant saving the children. 

When the demon could no longer sense a single life outside of those stored within the boat, only then did he teleport himself down below and all but dropped, sinking into the hay as the children around him startled at his sudden sodden appearance. 

With another flash of black smoke, the serpentine form faded, and the humanoid form shifted to the forefront with only his black wings remaining.

The kids didn’t hesitate to crowd him, each trying unsuccessfully to find comfort within his long arms and even wider wingspan. The demon did what he could to provide what measly comfort and warmth he had to offer, but it was not much. The demon was cold-blooded by nature due to being a snake, but that did not mean he couldn’t use demonic miracles.   
And so if as the children’s cries faded and the kids instead fell into sleep while they settled all around him, well… Hell would never need to know the specifics behind the miracles would they? No. And if he kept the kids that way for the next forty days and nights, keeping their bodies healthy while in slumber, whose business was it but his own?   
Hell wouldn’t dare to question a Prince of his ranking, but Heaven was a completely different story. 

~~

Aziraphale had been assigned to watch over the humans aboard the Ark and had joined them inside when the rainwater had made its first appearance. Aziraphale flinched at the knocks on the door from the humans so desperately trying to get inside, but to open the doors now… it would be suicide. With great regret, the angel ignored the cries for help, and instead watched as Noah and his family settled in to rest and sleep through the worst of the storm within the dry hay. 

It was not for several more days that the angel, while wandering the ship (the humans couldn’t see him unless he wished to be seen), sensed a nearly unnoticeable demonic presence on board. 

More than a bit nervous, he had slowly and cautiously approached the bowels of the ship, gathering heavenly energy into his palm should he need to smite, only to freeze in place when he jumped down the ladder and stared in shocked silence at the sight before him.

What had to be nearly two dozen human children were found hunkered and sleeping, and at the center of the mass of small bodies, it’s wings spread wide as though attempting to cover the majority of the kids like a blanket from the cold, was the demon. Was Crowley.

He too, like the children, was sound asleep and Aziraphale found himself uncertain about what to do. On one hand, this demon had gone against God’s will to wipe out the humans. On the other hand, the demon had saved innocent children and hadn’t been destroyed by God for the act. 

More than a little confused, the angel almost didn’t notice when the demon woke abruptly due to sensing the angelic presence within the room. He did however flinch backwards when the demon startled up into a standing position and had razor wings and sharpened claws a mere half inch from his throat. 

Aziraphale didn’t dare move any further as the demon seemed to pause in recognition before sighing and slowly, forcibly, made himself relax his defensive posture, allowing his feathers to soften and his claws to retract. Even the fangs within his jaws slowly shrunk down until only the demon’s usual humanoid form was left standing, apart from his wings which continued to remain out in the current dimension and showed the angel that the demon wasn’t as at ease as he attempted to appear. 

“That was dangerous angel,” the demon grunted, before allowing himself to sit back down amongst the slumbering children who remained undisturbed. “I almost killed you. Could have easily done so.”

“You didn’t though,” Aziraphale replied, clearing his throat of any lingering nervous tension. “and I… I believe you wouldn’t have, even if I had threatened you. Probably, you only would have attacked me if I had threatened the children.”

Kral eyed the angel. In truth, he most certainly would have killed the angel, if it had been anyone other than this -particular- angel. For some reason, a reason he couldn’t yet fully explain, he wasn’t able to imagine himself harming this angel. Enemy or not. 

The Prince of Hell found him… fascinating. And if he found Aziraphale fascinating, he wondered what Heaven thought of him. Somehow, he had a feeling they didn’t find him near as… interesting, as Kral himself did. 

“Whatever,” he just muttered instead, unsure of how he truly would have reacted had the angel attacked the kids. “what are you doing here Aziraphale? I assumed you ran.”

Aziraphale huffed at the veiled insult, but let it go. 

“I was ordered to watch over the passengers aboard this ship.” His eyes strayed to the children and then back to the exhausted looking demon. “I supposed, what heaven doesn’t know won’t hurt them.”

The demon blinked, stunned. 

The angel shrugged as though he hadn’t just blatantly gone against heavenly expectation. 

“They did say the passengers, and you all,” he gestured to the kids and even to Crowley himself, “are passengers, are you not?”

“Well,” Crowley hissed, a true grin spread across his face. “Aren’t you deliccccioussss.”

Aziraphale blushed, and oh, Crowley was captivated by this angel. He was just so delightfully different. So… so pleasantly unique. 

“Yes, well…” the angel cleared his throat again and took a seat beside the demon who watched him with that intense stare of his. “I’m just doing as I’m told.”

And Crowley cackled, watching with true amazement as the angel settled in beside a Prince of Hell (not that the angel knew this), disregarding heaven just to protect a demon who had saved a bunch of kids. 

“And you?” the angel asked, “how will you explain to Hell saving innocent lives of children?”

Crowley just smirked. “Defying Heaven’s Will, of course.”

“Ah,” the angel nodded.

Crowley glanced around at the kids before settling back in the hay, eyes closed. 

“I’m going to rest now.”

“Of course,” The angel whispered, “rest easy. I will keep watch over you and the children. You have my word.” 

And I’m sorry about last time, the angel didn’t say, though he wanted to.

If the angel stayed around the entire time the demon and the kids slept, Crowley didn’t know. Crowley did not wake again until the boat hit dry land, and by then, he had other things besides Aziraphale on his mind.


	6. Sodom and Gomorrah, 2000 BC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another thousand years later, Crowley and Aziraphale reunite. But the cycle of death and destruction continues.

While Kral could admit to himself that he liked the angel more every time they met after the events of the flood, that didn’t mean that there weren’t times when they fought. Heck, there were even those times they discorporated one another, or at least never stopped it from happening. 

It had been a messy ball of emotions and expectations in the beginning, neither sure how to respond to one another’s presence. Kral knew within his dark demonic soul, that he should destroy the angel completely. If it were any other angel, even if it were a demon, he wouldn’t have hesitated in that regard. It would have been a simple thing to do so, but it wasn’t any other being. It was Aziraphale. 

Kral couldn’t explain what it was about Aziraphale, but every time he got raging mad at something the angel did or said, he could never bring himself to do anything worse than a mere discorporation, if that. 

Now granted, discorporating is less than fun, but it wasn’t permanent, and the physical pain would only last so long before they would both vanish back into their separate realms to explain what happened and why, before being granted a new body some 10-100 years later. 

In the long history that the demon known as Crowley and Aziraphale built with each other, it was often the angel who discorporated the demon when angered, rather than the other way around. Crowley did his fair share of damage to the angel, but each time he caused the other pain, a strange tension and ache would build within himself as he watched the angel physically suffer. A discomfort that, over time, he couldn’t handle anymore. It became an anguish that he made certain he never let show to Hell or to the Angel whom he had slowly, if he could only admit it to himself, had begun to fall in love with. 

It didn’t start that way of course. He cared for the angel, sure, but love… it was a foreign thing in the beginning, especially to a demon and one he had doubted for a while until he couldn’t deny it anymore. The very idea was laughable, and for a Prince of Hell with a reputation of being ruthless and cunning. For a Prince to fall in love with an angel of all things… Hell would have collapsed in a fit of hilarity if they knew, right before killing him of course.

It would be dangerous for Kral if Hell ever realized just how much grace remained within their Prince. A being not quite angelic, but not fully demonic either; an abomination. They would use that love against him, he knew, and so he tried – unsuccessfully as it were – to not love Aziraphale. To ignore the angel’s existence. To hate all things holy. To use his anger and humor like a suit of armor. To never show the truth concerning his remaining faith and trust in Her, and in that little bit of grace swirling within him. A shard of heaven not yet tainted and that seemed to grow brighter with each ounce of love and goodness he dared to display.

Unfalling would have been easier than it was for Crowley to try and not love the angel, and as the years they spent together began to pass by, the demon cherished each one of them. Cradling the moments between them like a human cradles a newborn child. Careful, eager, and delicate. 

It came to a head one evening in Sodom, the sister city of Gomorrah. Crowley was sitting in a tavern drinking with the humans, doing a little tempting now and again and just enjoying life amongst the humans, when a surge of divinity nearly knocked him off his feet. Startled, he was out the door in a single moment, ducking under the cover of darkness and winding his way through the narrow streets, searching. He could feel Aziraphale’s signature, but the angel wasn’t alone. There were other holy signatures present within the city and they seemed far more powerful than the Principality. That could only mean Archangels were in the city, but why? For what reason? Were they here for Crowley? A new chosen human perhaps? Or maybe… no, surely God would not cause another disaster, would She?

He thought it better to keep his head down until he knew more, and so he snuck through the alleyways and arrived back at the small stone structure he had called home for the last hundred years. He stayed there, hidden behind some wards he had placed to camouflage his own demonic signature and so far, it seemed to be working. Or at least he thought it was until he turned around and found himself nose to nose with Aziraphale. 

“Crowley!”

The demon all but jumped a foot in the air, his heart racing, as he tried to breathe calmly and not attack the other while running on adrenaline and instinct alone. It was just Aziraphale. Only Aziraphale. 

“Angel,” he hissed, “what the HELL are you doing here?”

Aziraphale, if he was even listening, never answered. He seemed to be an endless source of restless energy as he raced around the small house, peeking out each window and out each door before finally turning to the demon who stood in the middle, silent and waiting. 

“Crowley,” the angel finally spoke again, “you need to leave the city as soon as possible. I don’t have a lot of time to explain. They could come looking for me any second, but you must leave right now.”

“Wha- this is my home, Aziraphale, I can’t just leave, I…”

“Crowley!” The angel snapped, desperation bleeding through his blue eyes, “I didn’t have to come and risk both our lives, but I did. Now I am begging you to honor this stupid burst of courage and please, just leave the city and don’t look back. It’s… it won’t be pretty.”

And Crowley, God help him, listened. 

He wasn’t sure why he fully believed the angel. Aziraphale had never shown an ounce of concern for the demon before. Maybe it was because the last time they had met, they had drunk wine together and laughed. Maybe it was because the last time Crowley had been discorporated, the angel had been forced to watch. Maybe it was because Crowley himself had begun to care about the angel more, and Aziraphale had noticed. Either way, Crowley didn’t argue. He grabbed his bag of small items he had collected over the past two thousand years and he left. He walked out of the city, careful to dodge any celestial signatures, and it was only when he was a good distance away that he looked back and watched the city burn. 

“And he also will drink the wine of God’s wrath, poured full strength into the cup of his anger, and he will be tormented with fire and sulfur in the presence of the holy angels and in the presence of the Lamb. And the smoke of their torment goes up forever and ever, and they have no rest, day or night, these worshipers of the beast and its image, and whoever receives the mark of its name.”

Crowley scoffed. 

“Mother… I don’t understand anymore.”

Turning, the demon wandered into the desert, his thoughts a confusing swirling vortex, but what he did know was that Aziraphale had saved him from Heaven’s wrath, and Kral would not forget it.


	7. Joseph in Egypt, 1889 BC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley thinks of his past and we better understand what happened before he Fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that not all 'steps through time' will be long. Some will be quite short and others quite long.

Kral stared down at the scared human boy, not even a man yet, who had been betrayed by his brothers, cast into slavery, grew into a place of respect, only to turn and be betrayed yet again. Kral couldn’t say he didn’t understand his pain. After all, something similar had happened to the demon once upon a time. 

“Up to no good, I take it?” The angel asked teasingly as he approached, stopping beside the demon who continued to stare down into the cell where the young human was kept imprisoned. 

The Prince of Hell Kral barely even heard his heavenly counterpart. His thoughts were stuck in the past. In a time before the creation of the world. A time when he had brothers, family, who loved him as Joseph’s family had. Family who betrayed him and cast him out like Joseph’s family. A family who even now, considered him dead in the eyes of Heaven. And a Mother who never stepped in to stop it. Never spoke up for he, who had done no true wrong.

“Crowley?” the gentle, partially concerned tone of the angel drew his attention. 

“Hmm?”

“Are… Are you okay?”

“Fine,” the demon Crowley replied, standing stiffly. He didn’t allow himself to look at the angel. His entire postured was rigid, cold. It was a warning for the angel not to touch him. Not to approach. 

The angel ignored it. 

A gentle hand touched his arm and Crowley recoiled, drawing back, golden eyes narrowing with a hiss and a show of fangs. He coiled up, despite his human appearance, a clear warning he would strike should the angel move any closer. Even the little black serpent on his face had coiled, not that anyone would notice unless they knew what to look for.

Aziraphale wasn’t reckless enough to push his counterpart who obviously was not in a good mood. Despite only seeing his counterpart in passing most years, he could read the demon’s body language well by now and immediately he stepped back, hands lifted in a show of peace. 

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to startle you, my boy,” the angel replied calmly, slowly. 

He was trying to appear harmless, but Crowley’s entire being was on high alert due to the flashes of memory now skating behind golden amber eyes. It didn’t matter that Aziraphale meant no harm. If he moved even slightly in his direction, Crowley would attack, whether he intended to or not. It was his nature. It was a defense mechanism. It was Crowley, and the part of Crowley who recognized that the angel meant him no harm was disgusted by his own actions. 

“Just go away, Asssziraphale!” he hissed, having regained an ounce of clarity. 

“Okay,” the angel agreed, “okay, Crowley.”

With a snap, the angel vanished. He didn’t go far. Joseph was, after all, his charge, but he could see the serpent would not harm the boy. If anything, the other seemed upset by the human’s predicament. It was an odd thing to consider, a demon sad because of a human’s misfortune, but after witnessing Crowley aboard the ark after having saved all those children, exhausting himself to the point of collapse, well… Aziraphale could no longer ignore the fact that this demon was different than the rest. Special even.  
How peculiar, he thought to himself, and continued to stand guard over both his charge and his counterpart from a distance.


	8. Plagues of Egypt, 1446 BC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley reunites with an old friend.

Prince of Hell Kral stood high upon a hill, watching as flaming brimstone and hail fell from the heavens towards the heart of Egypt. The smell of burning flesh and debris filled the air, and even for a demon from Hell, it was still a nauseating stench to inhale. 

The Pharaoh of Egypt though had refused to let the Israelites go. God’s people, as they had been christened. They should have known better than to test Her, he thought to himself with a grimace. 

Crowley wanted to intervene as he had on the Ark. To save the innocents who didn’t deserve God’s wrath only because of one human’s selfishness, but the Prince of Hell Kral knew that he wouldn’t be able to explain that action to Hell. Not this time. 

While he had been able to explain away the children upon the ark, this was different. Hell wanted this to happen. They thought it amusing that God Herself would smite an entire mass of people just for another group of people. Kral didn’t think it funny. Crowley didn’t think it right. But neither did they think it wrong. 

Death was just… it was a part of life. Even now, Kral could see the four horsemen from a distance, watching, waiting, station to bring about their intended carnage. War would be making a move soon, the horsemen was never one to be left out of the ‘fun’, as she had often called it. It made him sick.

Death, Pollution, and Pestilence had already done their part, though the demon doubted it was anywhere close to completed. Those four couldn’t be stopped. Not by him. And he wouldn’t have stopped them even if he could. He knew if he tried that they could destroy him. Not just discorporate but destroy, as in erase him from existence. Maybe one on one he could take them, but certainly not one on four. Again, not that he would. 

Crowley did like humans. Crowley liked the Earth. But Kral loved God more. And so, they had faith in her plan and kept still and silent. They had once been like the horsemen after all, and they knew that they were as much a part of life as living. 

But that was a thought for another time. A time when they were alone and weren’t standing in front of the four horsemen, silent, cold, and completely alone. For now, they would be witness during this time and they would remember those innocents who died, and sadly that would have to be enough. 

A movement to their left caught their attention, and they watched in startled curiosity as Death started up the hill towards them, having unnoticeably teleported closer.   
Most might have freaked out. Most would have begun to beg and cry, thinking Death had come for them. Kral wasn’t most people, and he knew Death. He knew them well. One of the few siblings who hadn’t betrayed him that fateful day in heaven, Kral had never minded running into Azrael. And unlike the host who seemed to have forgotten him, Azrael was a being outside time, and therefore remembered who Kral had been and who he is and what that meant and what it might mean. 

“Brother,” the being called Death greeted him, his appearance skeletal. 

It was a corporation like any other, but this one could phase between the living and the dead. Kral liked to think it stayed mostly skeletal because Azrael was a bit of a drama queen, despite the badass scythe they carried over their shoulder, as though daring anyone to call them on it.

Kral eyed the other being. They weren’t really siblings any longer, at least not according to heaven and hell, but the two of them had always been different from the others Whereas Azrael was a being of death, Crowley was a being of life, or at least had been. They were, by all rights, complete opposites to one another. It was almost ironic that Life had fallen into Hell and Death remained a part of Heaven. 

“You’ve all been busy,” Kral spoke, voice flat, eyes once again locked on the fires below.

Death was silent. They stood side by side. Neither sure exactly what to say. They both understood that nothing could be said. Being Death was not fun, but it was required, at least for now. 

“I felt a pull when you discoporated last time,” Death finally spoke, glancing at him, “cutting it close again, brother.”

Kral huffed. “You and I both know that won’t happen. Not unless She wills it.”

Death said nothing. They both knew those words weren’t completely accurate, but neither were they a lie. Though Death was outside space and time, he was not God. He did not know what was in store for his brother. He only knew he would be there to reap their soul when the time comes. 

“I will be making my move soon,” Death spoke again. “I came to warn you not to interfere with that. Should you try, it will only end in disaster.”

“You mean if I try, I will die?”

“No,” Death shook its head, and his tone seemed mournful. “If you try Prince Kral, as the humans will say, ‘the devil may cry’.”

“Devil may care, Rae,” Kral corrected them, but sighed in understanding. If he attempted to intervene, there would be nothing he could do. Instead, it would only devastate what little remained of his angelic soul. 

“I won’t interfere,” he responded. 

But when he looked to his sibling, they had already vanished. 

Closing his eyes, Kral left Egypt and wandered into the desert. Out of sight out of mind is what they often say, but as the souls of first-born children cried out, the demon Crowley mourned as he felt what was left of his angelic soul quake.


	9. Samson and Delilah, 1075 BC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale begins to doubt Heaven.

Aziraphale stood there, shaking, as he watched Samson in the temple. His mission had been to watch over Samson until the day he died. Aziraphale had just never considered… never thought… never imagined, that it would end like this. 

Samson had always been a strong, tall, and broad-shouldered lad, gifted by God with abnormal strength that came in the form of beautiful plush hair. And Aziraphale adored him. Despite the child being more interested in fighting then any form of learning, Aziraphale was a warrior of Heaven, a former Cherub demoted to the rank of Principality who was once the Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden. He was born to fight, to protect, and so that is what he did. He taught the boy lessons of course, told him stories, but he also helped him to learn how best to fight. How to strategize. How to persevere. 

Aziraphale just never taught Samson how to resist temptation. Especially temptation in the form of lust. Perhaps he should have known better. Human’s are frail and more likely to sin, but Samson was always so strong. Aziraphale never thought it could happen to his boy. Not to Samson. 

And then it did.

The day Samson gave in to lust and told that despicable human Delilah, a woman no doubt tainted by Hell itself, the truth about his hair, it was all over. Samson’s hair was cut into ratty strips, he was left weak and vulnerable, and chained before all to be ridiculed and humiliated. He was blinded and so alone, caught in a world of darkness, but Aziraphale was light and he wanted to grant his light to the child he had protected and taught the ways of the world. 

And so, with heaven’s permission, Samson heard the voice of an angel as he hung before the masses. He heard the voice of Aziraphale, his friend, his teacher, and someone who was given specific directions from heaven to restore the boy’s strength one last time. And Aziraphale watched, he felt happy, hopeful. Samson had his strength back, right? I mean yes, Heaven did not allow him to heal his boy, but surely this meant he could escape. He could run. Aziraphale would help him survive alone, blinded or not.

In stunned horror, the opposite of what he imagined transpired. 

Samson pulled. He pulled against the chains. Against the hopes of his teacher. And he set into motion the strings of fate. He pulled the pillars that had been keeping him chained, and he cared little as the entire temple came tumbling down. All those within the chamber died, and Samson was amongst them.

When Aziraphale returned to headquarters, he was stricken with despair. He marched into Gabriel’s office and demanded answers. Why Samson? Why could he not save the boy? Why did he have to die there with those animals? Why had heaven given him permission to restore his strength, only to let it end like this?

Gabriel just stared at him, amused.

“Aziraphale, come now, it was only a mission. God choose the humans She knows will help set Her plans into motion. Its not our right to question it. Besides, Samson turned away. He ignored the words our Lord told him. He turned his back on Her. And so, he had to face the consequences. Let this be a lesson to you Aziraphale, Heaven does not question the Will of the Lord.”

Aziraphale was angry, hurt, and yet he couldn’t deny the truth behind the Archangels words. Still, it wasn’t the words that fueled the angels rage, but it was what came after. A mocking laugh. A demeaning statement from an Archangel, aimed towards a human, a lesser in the eyes of heaven. How sad it was that Samson hadn’t been an angel, but then again, the archangel had continued, he probably would have Fallen with the rest of them. 

It would be the first time that Aziraphale thought to himself, that perhaps, just maybe, Heaven might be in the wrong.


	10. David and Bathsheba, 993 BC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David may not be the only one tempted by lust. Aziraphale discovers a side of himself he never knew existed.

Crowley smirked as he watched the human king watching the human woman bathe several stories below. She was quite beautiful for a human and it wouldn’t have been surprising that anyone found her pleasing upon the eyes, but this was much more than that. This was the secret lust the righteous King David held for a woman who was not his own. 

It was the perfect opportunity to give the human a choice and Kral took full advantage of it.

“Isssssn’t she beautiful,” he had whispered into the other’s ear. “Ssssso why not go to her?”

It had taken very little for the human king to give into temptation, just a slight push in lust’s direction. As righteous as the man was, he was still only a weak mortal. Lust was one of the most difficult temptations to get humans to sometimes give into, and yet it was also in a way, the easiest to manipulate once they even began to consider the idea. 

Crowley watched with a smile as the king headed straight towards the woman. His own eyes however, had locked upon a certain white-blonde angel standing down below who was staring in horror and ringing his hands nervously, as he watched the events unfold. As the human king seduced the woman he had lusted after into her own husband’s bedchamber.   
Suddenly, the angel turned and glared up at the window where Crowley now sat before storming into the castle, no doubt on his way up. Crowley sighed and prepared himself to be yelled at as he remained where he rested upon the window ledge. 

“How dare you!” the angel shouted upon entering, “David is my mission! And you think you can just come up here and… and… tempt him?!”

Crowley frowned. The angel seemed angrier than usual. 

“I’m a demon, Angel. It’s what I do. Besides, he’s also my mission. My job was to make him sin, which I finally just did.”

Aziraphale stared at him intensely. It had been a long time since Crowley had seen the angel this furious. Probably not since Cain and Able. 

That human king must be a personal favorite of his, Crowley realized, because the angel only ever reacted like this when Crowley chose ‘his’ humans to tempt. Orders were orders, nonetheless. 

“You had no right! She dearly loved her husband and David is a righteous man!” Aziraphale raged.

“A human man,” Crowley added.

“Human or not, he is a man of God!” Aziraphale shouted, stepping ever closer, seething. “Lust is not permitted amongst the righteous! This will ruin him! He is a being of Love, not Lust!”

“What if it was more than lust involved?” Crowley questioned calmly. 

The angel just stared at him, the resentment in his eyes never waning, but he did seem befuddled by the demon’s question.

“What if it was more than just lust?” Crowley asked again. “Let’s say yes, lust started all of this, but love… love is a fickle thing angel. See for yourself.”

The demon motioned down below and Aziraphale reluctantly drew closer to the window and stared, unblinking, down to where the two humans were currently ‘busy’ within the woman’s bedchamber. And sure enough, radiating from the king to Aziraphale’s revulsion, was a small tendril of love. And not just the king, the angel noticed, but from the woman as well. 

“It begins as lust, but that doesn’t mean love is an impossibility. Even the unrighteous can love, angel, it doesn’t make that emotion entirely holy. It doesn’t make the notion entirely pure. Humans love money. Another way of explaining greed. Humans love physical items. Another way of explaining envy. Humans love one another. Just another example of lust. Humans love food. Gluttony. Humans love to hate. Wrath. Don’t you see, Angel?” the Prince of Hell Kral whispered, his breath hot against Aziraphale’s neck. “Love is not always the simplest answer.”

The angel shivered as he felt the demon press ever closer. Memories of a child with long hair who was strong as an ox raced through his mind. Lust had destroyed his boy back then, and now, once more, lust would take yet another.

“I didn’t have to do anything,” Crowley whispered softly, “all I needed to do, was make him aware of his own choices.”

Aziraphale couldn’t explain why he did what he did right then. He would never be able to explain it. Not to himself, and certainly not to the demon. It was something Crowley never questioned him on either once they met up again. Strange as it was, the angel was forever grateful for that kindness even as the guilt ate him. 

Because as the demon whispered those words into his ear, breath hot and lips skimming the surface of his skin, he himself had felt the pull of lust. And so, he had turned, and he had kissed the demon whose golden amber eyes widened considerably, and then, realizing what he had done, Aziraphale had drawn back in humiliation and allowed his rage, his fear, and his self-loathing to take control.

“You! You… YOU TEMPTER!” he had shouted, and he had shoved. 

He didn’t think, he just acted. And he watched in shocked horror as the demon, not expecting the sudden aggression, fell from the window and splattered onto the streets below. Discoporated. Gone. And the angel could only stand there, shaking, mortified by his own actions.


	11. Alexander the Great, 366 BC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finds romance may not be all it's cracked up to be. Especially when humans live such short fragile lives.

Crowley was still a bit sore about his unfortunate discorporation by the hand of his angel, and so he chose to keep his distance from his counterpart upon returning to the surface nearly fifty years later. It was a lot easier traveling the globe without Aziraphale around to spend time with than Crowley thought it would be, and that was all because of one young human boy named Alexander. 

Who knows how it happened, but Crowley ended up meeting a human named Aristotle after several hundred years of wandering, all by chance. Aristotle was a human who amazed the demon with his wisdom and philosophical concepts. The two enjoyed many hours just chatting about anything and everything along the seaside, and eventually those little occasional meet and greets became planned. And then those planned lunches became outings together into the city. And at some point, Aristotle who was the first human to successfully befriend the rogue Prince of Hell since Adam and Eve, invited Crowley to meet his best and brightest student, the young Prince of Macedon, Alexander.  
Alexander was as incredible, if not more so, than his teacher.

Even at such a young age, Alexander was mature and patient, brilliant and strategic. He would debate with both Crowley and Aristotle on several subjects, and he would always be willing to hear out another’s opinion before stating his own. Alexander dumbfounded Crowley, and Crowley loved it. Alas, human children had always been as drawn to Crowley as the demon was to them. Hence, Crowley and Alexander formed an unlikely friendship that eventually bloomed into something much more intimate as the boy grew older. 

Though the demon was not human, and Alexander was, Crowley loved the young human dearly. Alexander, despite being a human Prince with power, had to be careful with his show of affection for Crowley in return. He told the demon of his concerns, as men were not permitted to be with other men, and Crowley solved this issue by changing the memories of all the humans involved, making them think he had been a woman all along. Even Alexander now thought this, and so his love for her grew bolder. 

When Alexander turned twenty, his father died, and he inherited the throne of Greece. Alexander who had always been adventurous and strategic, who loved exploring, and who loved the art of war, had immediately set his plans for a voyage into action, and started out on a multiple-war-campaign to expand his Kingdom and explore new lands. 

Crowley, or who was now known as the beautiful Lady Antonina, of course went with him. While the demon had never loved war, neither the act nor the embodiment, she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed traveling amongst Greece’s great army and most especially, at the side of the young human she had come to treasure. 

Aristotle had refused to go off to war with the two of them, stating he had grown far too old for such boyish pursuits, but had gifted Alexander with a copy of Homer’s work, the boy’s favorite piece of literature, The Iliad. Alexander treasured it dearly. 

The young King took the book with him on his adventures, and often read to the demon in the late evenings when it was just the two of them, enjoying time with one another in privacy. Antonina loved to hear Alexander speak. She loved to hear his gentle and soft voice as he read the book to her, cradled within his arms. She loved the feel of his hands as they caressed her skin and ran gently through her hair. She loved the feel of his hot breath behind her ear.

She had never felt such kindness before. Such love. And she never wanted it to end. She thought, maybe, if only for his lifetime, she might be happy. 

Alexander had many great advisors and generals, all of whom would go down in history as renowned heroes, but amongst them, Antonina was the one person he relied upon most (and whose name would not be known in the History books thanks to a demonic miracle). Alexander would never act on this trust during meetings, as Antonina was but a woman to the others, but to him, Antonina was his wife in everything but official title, and so her opinion mattered to him more than any of the others. And he told her this often within the privacy of their tent. 

Alexander wasn’t an idiot of course. A woman so beautiful, so seductive, so inhumanly tempting. He felt honored to be the target of her affections despite knowing deep down, that his Lady Antonina wasn’t human, but he never questioned her because he knew that perhaps in time, the other might finally trust Alexander with the truth about who and what she was. Or at least, that’s what he wanted to believe as the years progressed. 

It never happened.

The troops, after a little over a decade of war and travel, were homesick and wanted to return and reunite with their families. Grudgingly, Alexander agreed that perhaps it was time that they take a break, and so he doubled back to Babylon. While there, Alexander decided to give Antonina, his most beloved, a unique gift. He began constructing a place there within the heart of Babylon that would one day be known as “the Hanging Gardens”. He had done this due to finding out one of his love’s most well-kept secrets.

It hadn’t been on purpose, but when Alexander was still sixteen, he had stumbled upon the other whispering fiercely to a beautiful rose bush at the back of the palace. Antonina had been spitting a mouthful of insults at the thing, but the look in her eyes and the gentle touch of her hand upon its leaves and delicate buds… Alexander had never forgotten how kindly and sad she had seemed in that moment, despite the harshness of her words. 

It was supposed to be a happy surprise for his beautiful beloved, but then everything went wrong. Illness has a way of leveling the playing field. The doctors couldn’t explain what was happening to the young Emperor, but progressively, the boy’s body and mind began to rapidly deteriorate. Alexander was only thirty-one years old, but his body was completely shutting down one organ at a time. It was a slow process, but undeniable in its fatal outcome. Crowley tried again and again, desperately, to save the human she had come to love, but nothing happened. Despite the demonic miracles she had pushed into his body at night when they were alone, Alexander never got any better, though the illness did slow for a time, but that only prolonged his suffering. 

Alexander made it to his thirty-second birthday before things took a turn for the worse. It was while he was lying there, unmoving on his bed, that he ordered everyone out except Antonina. Dear, sweet, beautiful Antonina who had looked at him with such sadness. 

Alexander had taken her hand and held it as he spoke. Antonina never moved as she listened, she never cried either, she just… sat there. 

Alexander explained about the gardens he had begun building for her and how he had wanted it to be a surprise. He told her all about the happy memories he had of them and Aristotle and how he treasured every single one. He spoke of the rose bush and how beautiful the other had looked that day whispering madly to its leaves. He talked about the love he had for her and how he had planned to ask her to marry him upon returning home to Greece. 

Antonina had listened silently and then at the end, Alexander had pulled her down and hugged her to him, and she let him, resting her cheek against the human’s chest. She stayed eerily silent and still, but Alexander didn’t mind. 

“I had always hoped you would tell me the truth of what you are,” Alexander whispered into her ear late that night, “but I don’t care anymore.”

“Alex…”

“No,” Alexander shushed her with a weak, but warm smile. “I don’t care what you are my beloved, because your you, Antonina. I love you, my beautiful rosebud.”

And only then did she cry. Her tears came with desperate sobs of emotion. Emotion she had tried to keep back from the human she hadn’t wanted to cause any undue stress, but rather than be distraught by her tears, Emperor Alexander had smiled and kissed her, just holding her in his arms for as long as they lay there. 

Alexander died the following morning and Antonina died with him. 

Kral left Babylon later that evening, erasing the memory of herself from all those who had known her, and never looked back. Never even laid eyes upon the gardens Alexander had built for her. 

Love had abandoned the Fallen Angel yet again.


	12. Burning of Alexandria Library, 283 BC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gains a new understanding of the demon Crowley.

In an effort to not think about his wily counterpart and his own actions in regards to their last meeting in Israel, the angel had stayed as far from the demonic signature of Crowley as he could when it had reappeared back on earth, fifty years after the ‘incident’. 

One of the places Aziraphale most enjoyed in those later years whilst traveling alone, was the Great Alexandria Library in Egypt (Ironically named after Alexander the Great; not that the angel knew or would understand why this would ever be ironic until a much later date). 

Many scholars from all around the world would conjoin there, and Aziraphale had to admit, he loved every second he spent discussing the handwritten books and scrolls with the intelligent humans who studied there. They were just so delightfully motivating. He even tried his own hand at writing books from time to time, but more than anything he just loved to read, store knowledge, and understand the very workings of every single new and brilliant thing that the humans came across while exploring the universe God had granted them. 

He had been living in Egypt for several years, luckily with no real missions aside from a few miracles here and there, when he felt rather than saw a demonic signature enter the city. This was not new, as Crowley and he were often in the same area quite regularly, but this was different. After having been with Crowley nearly four thousand years, Aziraphale had come to recognize his counterpart’s own demonic signature. It was usually a strange mix of fiery red light, murky gray, and an odd dash of glittering gold. What he felt now was just… it wasn’t Crowley, that much was certain. 

Crowley was undoubtedly on Earth and not very far away, but this demonic signature within his city, it wasn’t that of his personal adversary. This demon’s signature was all over the place. A variety of different shades ranging from the darkest black to the deepest red with a few spots of dismal green-grey. If Aziraphale hadn’t met Crowley, this was exactly what he would have imagined a demon’s personal signature to look like. It was… cruel, cold, and sent chills racing through the angel when he sensed the hostility burning within the demon’s core. 

Crowley’s was never like this, Aziraphale was thinking to himself even as he left the Library to scout the demon and find out why it was here. Crowley’s signature, though a bit cold at times, was never cruel. It was never hateful or wicked in any way. Aziraphale wasn’t naïve enough to think Crowley was necessarily good and that he hadn’t or wouldn’t ever kill anything or anyone, but Crowley never went out of his way to do those things. Crowley was never unnecessarily heartless or malevolent. He just… enjoyed being mischievous. He enjoyed living amongst the humans. He enjoyed life. 

Shaking those thoughts off and trying not to remember the vivid account of their latest fateful encounter with one another, Aziraphale followed the demon from a distance. At first, he was confused. The other had gone into the nearby political chamber and hadn’t done anything besides watch and listen to the human’s debate amongst themselves. And then, the demon began to whisper. 

Aziraphale had seen Crowley do it enough times to know this was a temptation, but again, Crowley wasn’t malicious and this Demon… well, he undeniably was. So, the true question becomes, what is the intention behind this demon being here? And more importantly, why wasn’t Crowley given this task if this was a mission from Hell?

The demon obviously knew what it was doing, because all at once the humans around it became angry and riled. Ptolemy I Soter who was King of Egypt at that time, was quickly rushed out of the room with his soldiers surrounding him. Riots suddenly broke out into the streets as the demon sent a trill of violent demonic influence into the surrounding area. Aziraphale, for the first time seeing what sort of destruction a true evil demonic entity from Hell could cause, was left dismayed. 

It was chaos and it was frighteningly strong, and Aziraphale knew he needed to do something to stop it. So, he did. He began to send out waves of angelic peace to the masses and it helped halt the violence, but the demon was moving quickly and the angel was having a harder time calming the humans than the demon had in causing fear and upheaval. And as Aziraphale scrutinized and tried desperately to stop this sudden widespread panic, he could only turn and seek out what would soon become his own personal nightmare, when he smelt smoke on the horizon. 

With horror filled eyes and a sudden fit of desperation, Aziraphale flew for the library of Alexandria, but it was already too late. The library was on fire, and not just any fire either. Hellfire. Even if he wanted to get inside and save his precious scrolls and books, the angel couldn’t get close. He could only collapse to his knees, completely distraught. 

Needless to say, the angel tracked down that demon and smote it from existence with pained satisfaction, but the damage was already done and Aziraphale reluctantly left Egypt not long after with a new appreciation for the demon named Crowley.


	13. The Crucifixion, 41 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley POV mostly, but Aziraphale does make an appearance.

It had been years since Aziraphale, and Crowley, had last spoken. They had felt one another from a distance during the years that followed the incident with King David, but neither had moved to actively seek the other out. Aziraphale still felt ashamed of his previous actions. More so after his run in with the vile creature from Alexandria Egypt, whom he considered a genuine demon of Hell. It had given him a new appreciation and understanding of his demonic counterpart, only cementing within him the bold belief that Crowley was one of a kind. 

Upon waking after that sudden discorporation in Hell after the events following his temptation of King David, Kral had been shocked, amused, and admittedly a bit hurt by the entire incident. To be suddenly kissed by his angel and then killed by that same angel a moment later hadn’t really been the highlight of his life. Hell of course, had been understanding of the entire ‘incident’. 

Kral had succeeded in felling a righteous man of God and they were beyond pleased. It wasn’t surprising to them that the angelic representative had hunted him down and killed him for it. They were satisfied with his success, despite his need for a new corporate body. Kral never said differently, allowing them to draw their own conclusions about how his discorporation came about. He just accepted the commendation and went back up to earth after he was issued a new body fifty years later (after several year-long celebrations down below in his honor). 

The angel and demon both knew eventually that they would meet again. You couldn’t spend almost four thousand years revolving around someone else and then just ignore one another for the rest of eternity, though it certainly seemed they had both tried. Eventually though, a single event brought both sides together again nearly a thousand years later.  
The death of Jesus, the Son of God, could not be overlooked by either side. 

Kral had wanted desperately to save him. This human, this… this piece of his Mother. But when he had approached Jesus and tried to help him. Tried to convince him to let Kral step in and save him, the other had refused him, not unkindly. 

“This must happen,” Jesus had told him patiently, “You know it must.”

And Kral did. He didn’t like it. Didn’t accept it. But this was God’s way of giving the humans whom Kral had led into sin, a second chance at redemption. And Crowley wouldn’t stand in the way of that.

And so here he was. He watched from a distance as the nails were put into the flesh. He watched as the other was strung up like a piece of art to be viewed and criticized before the masses. He watched as a piece of his Mother suffered for the humans that he, Kral, had led into sin. He had done this. And Crowley wept. 

Demons weren’t meant or known to cry, but Crowley had several times since his Fall. It very rarely happened, but on that day when Jesus died, the light within himself flared with both a sense of joy and anguish, and Crowley couldn’t handle the emotions on top of everything else that had happened to him recently. Demons weren’t meant to experience such holy phenomena, and it hurt as the love of his Grace flared up, but by God, it felt familiar. It felt like… like heaven. Like his angelic self was releasing the pain and the rage it had held onto since the rebellion. Like the pain was cleansing him, inside out. And so he cried. He cried and he cried and kept crying until the sun began to set and the last of the mourners faded into the night, following after the body of their Lord. 

Hours had passed and Crowley remained before the cross, one of the few who had stayed for the entire execution. 

Of course, Crowley knew God’s intended outcome. Jesus would rise again in three days and all would be fine, but… but the fact that Jesus had suffered, and even now, that he would be in Hell for such a time. It made Crowley want to go back down below and find him. To protect him. But that would have only caused more problems in the long run. So instead he sat there in the dirt, staring at the now empty cross hours after his Mother’s Son had passed on. He couldn’t bare to leave yet. He couldn’t bare the idea of just walking away.

All those years asking why to a God he couldn’t show that he still believed in. To the parent he so desperately loved. To the Mother whom he never received an answer from. To suddenly be sitting with a piece of that divine parent while in a desert, he had all but basked like the snake he is in their holy presence. And Jesus, he had let him, without any judgement or persecution. He knew Crowley’s questions and concerns, and while he never answered them, he merely reminded him that God loves and knows all. 

The demonic essence within himself wanted to laugh bitterly at those words. But the small angelic part of himself, it craved those words. His angelic soul pulled those words into its depths and thrived off of them, keeping those words as a little promise from a God who continued to love him even now. Those words were a promise, and he would remember them during the years to come. 

The demon was pulled from his somber thoughts when he felt the presence of a familiar angelic entity standing mere meters behind him. With a quiet sigh and another swallow of the wine skin Crowley clutched tightly within his hands, he spoke to his angelic counterpart. 

“Came to mock me and my pain, Angel?” 

The other was silent and still. If not for his presence, Crowley would have thought he had left already. 

“Not at all,” the angel finally replied, stepping up beside the demon, but not looking at him. 

There was no apology for his actions of before. No questions about why Crowley seemed to be mourning a holy man. No mockery for the tears that continued to silently pour from serpentine eyes. They just stayed there, in comfortable silence, together. Angel and Demon having changed quite a lot in the last thousand years.


	14. The Arrangement in Medieval Times, 476 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had wayyyy to many ideas to go along with his time period and decided to keep this short and sweet instead. We all know the facts leading up to the arrangement from the tv series, so, I just made this mostly a 'character study'.

The Arrangement, as it would eventually be known, was first introduced some hundreds of years later after the Crucifixion. The two ethereal beings had seemed much more at peace with one another since their reunion at the cross, the occasional lunches and dinner dates not being found uncommon or unwelcome. The two would periodically just sit and chat over alcohol, often ending with Crowley snoozing where he sat and Aziraphale reading while keeping watch. It was… nice, in several ways. And it got Kral thinking. 

Most of the ‘temptations’ Crowley did, were merely whispers into the ears of those already contemplating a sinful act. Taking advantage of timing and opportunity, commendations were often granted to him without him having lifted a finger. He often used these commendations, which allowed him free time, to get some extra sleep or to spend time with his angel knowing Hell wouldn’t be checking in anytime soon. 

He also kept watch over his angelic counterpart when he wasn’t on a mission, and noticed that the angel’s heavenly tasks had been rapidly increasing as of late, unlike his own which had been rapidly decreasing due to the human’s own creatively corruptive nature. And when they did both have a mission, often it seemed to Crowley that he and his angel would merely cancel one another out majority of the time, so then what was the point? 

And so, Kral began to strategize.

He cared little about Hell. He was aware of the consequences should anyone discover most of his reports were fudged, but no one would. And even if they did, no one would believe it unless multiple powerful demons witnessed it for themselves. As a Prince of Hell, Kral was left nearly untouchable by all except Lucifer and Beelzebub. Of course, there are other lesser Princes, but none as powerful as Kral and Beelzebub, and none who would dare to challenge him without sufficient reason and irrefutable evidence. 

While Crowley wasn’t truly a being who relished in bloodshed, it was a part of who he was deep down as the fallen angel Kral, a Prince of Hell and Architect of Sin. He had slaughtered nearly every single demon in Hell at some point, and yes, he even had run ins with a couple rogue angels whom he successfully discorporated. Even Aziraphale had not always escaped his ire, but overall, Crowley rather enjoyed being more mischievous than violent. He liked to watch people suffer a bit, but never to kill them. And even the suffering, it was never anything truly wicked unless they deserved it. 

Still, without much care concerning Hell and its expectations for him as the third most powerful being in Hell, because seriously who was going to complain to Kral if the temptations slowed a bit? The demon began considering the best way he could assist his angel without being discovered. And no, not just discovered by Hell, but by Heaven, and even the angel in question. He has a reputation to uphold after all. 

After thousands of years with Aziraphale, Crowley could no longer afford to lie to himself any longer. He was in love with the Principality. He knew it. He had always truly known it. It explained the agony that had begun to fill him every single time Aziraphale had been hurt by his hand or whenever he himself was hurt by something the angel said or did against him.

And so, he knew with this deal that how he presented it, would have to be cautiously worded. Aziraphale could never know the true depths of his love and reasoning. Not yet.   
And so, this led him to here and now, in the disguise of the Black Knight, trying to work smarter and not harder. He needed to help his angel, and that is where the arrangement comes in. Of course, he wasn’t surprised when the angel seemed shocked by the proposition. He wasn’t even hurt when the other furiously rejected even considering it, but he knew with time that perhaps he could prove to his angel that he only wished to help the angel help himself. 

Because he loved him.

But Aziraphale would never know that. 

If he knew and reciprocated, Kral would ultimately destroy him with his tainted love. It’s just how it’s always been. It won’t ever change. He would just have to get used to it, a world of unrequited love.


	15. Rome, 700 AD, Bath and Body Works

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley attempts to hide the depths of his Love.

Aziraphale and Crowley braved the arrangement and found it worked for them quite easily as the years sped by. When they both had missions in the same part of the world, supposedly canceling each other out, it made sense that only one would go and the other stays to work on other pressing concerns. Whether those concerns were personal, divine, or diabolical. 

Of course, after the missions were complete, they would always meet back up to discuss their happenings before filing separate reports to their individual headquarters. It only made sense therein, to use that time to meet comfortably and enjoy one another’s presence. Sometimes this included drinks, other times food, sometimes a show or music, and better yet, sometimes that meant the bathing pools. 

Aziraphale especially loved the pools and Crowley, well, he loved Aziraphale. If the angel wanted to show off more than a little skin and basically go skinny dipping in front of his adversary, who was he, a demon, to judge. (Or maybe Crowley just really liked looking at his angel). Either way, Crowley never missed a chance to go to the pools with Aziraphale, and so he was always pleasantly (Un)surprised when the angel suggested it. 

So here they were. With a little demonic intervention, the beautiful marble roman public bath was empty of everyone but Aziraphale and Crowley. Aziraphale was not, at this time, overly concerned about his looks. Heaven had originally been a realm of love and freedom, with little thought to the outward appearance. And so, he thought nothing of stripping then and there and slipping into the cool waters, relaxing under the stars in open display before God and everybody. Crowley, however, was more than aware of the angel’s body and his own. He made certain to stay sexless whenever possible with the angel, or else risk signaling he had a very different interest in Aziraphale outside of a friendly work-arrangement. And yeah, wouldn’t that go down well. 

He would take what he could get and right now, he was just happy being in the angel’s (very naked) presence. Aziraphale had been a lot more friendly and open (ha!) with him since the crucifixion. He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. If the angel was willing to spend more time just hanging out with Crowley, well who was Crowley to try and argue. Of course, he knew they had to be careful. Even if the two were slowly forging a closer-knit bond, if Hell and Heaven ever found out about them, friendship would be the least of their worries. 

And so, Crowley set a personal boundary within himself to keep his feelings in check. If the angel wanted more from Crowley, he would give more, he would give all of himself should the angel request it, but if the angel seemed uncomfortable or withdrawn, then Crowley would give him space. 

It hurt, this secret arrangement with himself, but it was necessary. And whenever the angel did decide he wanted more, if only to touch the other’s arm or hand, well, Kral all but climbed into his lap, desperate for any touch the angel dared to offer him. 

Hell, outside of torture and Satan’s own seductive caress once in a blue moon, never showed any kind affection. If he was touched, it was usually due to a demon either attempting to seduce him or kill him. And so Kral was willing to take anything the angel gave him. It was worth the pain of denying himself, at least that’s what he told himself every time the angel acted as though the touch had never transpired. As though the angel didn’t care about the demon. As though Kral was a stain upon humanity.


	16. French Winter, 970 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley doesn't handle the cold well. Or internal bleeding.
> 
> Sorry no snek.

Aziraphale was sitting in a convent near the river with the French Monks. It was a beautiful, cold snowy evening and the angel was enjoying writing on his parchment near the warmth of the blazing fireplace. It had been sometime since he had last seen Crowley and while he did occasionally think about his counterpart and wondered if he should seek him out, he tried not to let his emotions control his actions. It was too dangerous for them to be together. If heaven or hell ever discovered this arrangement they had, he knew it would spell disaster for the both of them. 

The angel sighed and stretched, standing from his chair as he moved to peek out the window. It was snowing hard now. It was a beautiful sight, but it made him feel blessed to be indoors where it was safe and warm. He hoped the demon was just as toasty wherever Crowley was. He knew because of the other’s serpentine attributes, that Crowley was often vulnerable in the winter seasons. It made him worry about the serpent probably more than he should. 

Turning, the angel decided perhaps a snack might distract him from thoughts of his demonic counterpart. He walked over to the basket in the backroom and pulled out a large chunk of cheese and some bread with a skin of wine before moving back towards the desk. There he nibbled and drank as he continued working on his translation of the manuscript he had been given by his fellow monks. It was a boring mission, this task of guiding the convent towards heavenly aspirations, but not something he particularly minded. It at least allowed him more time with his books. 

Just as Aziraphale lost himself in his work, a strange sensation shot through the soles of his feet. A strange burning pain. Confused, the angel shrugged it off after the sensation ebbed, but then a moment later, another sharp pain stabbed him, but this time through the chest. Confused, he rubbed a hand over his corporate heart and wondered if it was possible the wine was causing palpitations. It could happen, but usually only when he exercised. 

Another sharp pain this time seemed to rake over his flesh as though he were struck by an electrical current. More than a little concerned now, the angel stood up and started towards the bed, intending to stretch out and see if that helped anything, but then his knees buckled, and a new sensation took over. This one was familiar and more than a little distressing as he realized the pain he had felt and the nausea came with being around demonic influences and this signature that he could finally feel, so, so weak, was also familiar. Horrifyingly familiar. 

Without even considering a coat, the angel was out the door and into the blinding snow. He raced towards where the weakened signature was located and again, he felt a burning hot pain stab through his corporation. A pain that he now knew meant a demonic miracle was being used nearby. It didn’t always hurt the angel, but it was always uncomfortable, but these miracles… they were big. Big enough to cause the angel real pain and that meant he needed to hurry because something was very, very wrong. 

“Crowley!” he shouted as he came closer to the signature. 

He felt his heart sink as he felt the signature grow weaker, even as he the angel drew closer. 

“Crowley! Answer me!” he shouted.

The angel was walking blind through the snow, all but tripping over tree limbs as he shoved his way through the woods. “Crowley!”

Finally, finally, he heard a moan. It was barely there, but angels were known for their heightened senses. He raced towards the sound, still following the signature, and nearly tripped over the demon in his haste to located him. The demon was all but buried beneath the snow. Only a small portion of a black sleeve peeked out from the mound and Aziraphale wasted little time in grabbing it, unburying the other as quickly as he could. 

Crowley looked dead. He was hardly more than a corpse, as white as the snow and lips a distressing shade of blue. 

“Crowley, Crowley my dear,” he called, but the demon did not answer.

Desperate, Aziraphale lifted the demon into his arms and sprinted back towards where he could sense the convent. He didn’t stop until he reached the door of his cabin, stumbling into the warmth and all but diving towards the floor, right in front of the fireplace. With kind, quivering hands, Aziraphale got his first real look at his counterpart. 

Crowley, as pale and blue as he looked in the snow, looked far more frightening in the flickering glow of the fire. Dark bruises painted the left side of the demon’s face, and a bloody, still bleeding gash across his stomach was most concerning. With gentle hands, the angel lowered the near-frozen demon to the floor, after which he jumped up and grabbed as many blankets and pillows as he had lying around. Tucking a pillow gently under Crowley’s head, he also tucked a couple blankets over the other’s legs as he carefully cut the ragged robe from the demon’s corporation. Beneath the dark, snow-soaked material, more bruises littered his chest, stomach, and arms. 

“What happened to you my dear?” Aziraphale whispered, horrified.

First thing’s first. He needed to get the bleeding stopped and then he needed to warm the demon up before he discorporated. Quickly he touched the bleeding wound. It didn’t seem to be caused by anything holy or demonic. That meant he should be able to heal it. With a keen focus, the angel pressed his hand to the bloody gash and let out a relieved breath as it vanished as though it had never been. Next, he turned his attention to getting the other warmed up. Only hesitating briefly, the angel cut off the rest of the demons black rags, ignoring the weird mix of feelings this invoked as he laid eyes upon the others bare form, and hurriedly drew up the covers over his counterpart. Then he stripped himself of his own snow-soaked clothes, not daring to do any more miracles lest he draw the attention of heaven, before snuggling himself below the covers and wrapping his arms around the lean form. 

Crowley was skinny, far too skinny, in the angel’s opinion, but he was also beautiful. Not much joy could be had though in these circumstances. While Aziraphale felt oddly giddy to be so close to the other in such an intimate way, it was like holding onto a block of ice and that drastically made any and all pleasure that could be gained from this fall flat. 

Aziraphale was worried and growing more so with the others continued, unnatural stillness, and so he closed his eyes and using the least amount of power that he possibly could, he generated his own body just a few degrees warmer. It took time. Several hours in fact, before finally, the demon seemed to take a deep breath and fell from unconsciousness into peaceful slumber. Aziraphale didn’t move. He held his, dare he say friend, closer to him as the other shuffled in his sleep and burrowed into the angel’s warm plump flesh. It was ridiculous, but Aziraphale felt suddenly protective over the vulnerable demon, and cradled the chilled form as close as he dared without waking him. 

And so they stayed until morning. 

Crowley was very, very confused upon waking up in an unknown place. He was even more confused and extremely horribly frightened upon realizing he was being held in someone’s arms, against someone’s chest, completely naked. Squinting up, he almost choked when his yellow-amber snake eyes locked gazes with brilliant blue. 

“AAAssssszzzzziraphale,” he hissed, frowning at the lisp. Usually his serpentine attributes were better hidden than that. 

“Crowley,” the angel breathed with obvious relief, “welcome back, my dear.”

Crowley frowned.

“I went somewhere?”

“Very nearly,” Aziraphale sighed, sitting up. Crowley sat up with him, with the angel’s continued support. The demon felt oddly weak and rather chilled.

“What happened?” he questioned, confused. 

Aziraphale frowned. “I was hoping you could tell me. I was sitting here late in the evening and suddenly I felt several large demonic miracles occurring one after another. With some concentration I was able to lock onto your signature and find you, but Crowley… you were almost discorporated.”

“Oh,” Crowley thought for a moment, silent. 

Aziraphale did not rush him. Instead, the angel stood up and began to dress before vanishing into the back room, returning a moment later with another set of clothes and a wine skin. He handed both of them to Crowley who took the offerings with a quick smile, relieved as the familiar sweet fruity flavor of the wine ran down his parched throat and warmed his belly. 

“I was doing a temptation in a nearby village,” he recalled hazily, “they thought I was possessed by a demon when my glasses were accidentally knocked off during a bar fight. Unsurprisingly, that led to a riot with me at its center. I remember… I think, one of them got me with a knife.”

Crowley peered down at his stomach but saw no sign of the injury.

“I healed it, and the bruises. A corporate injury like that is not difficult to heal.”

“Oh, thanks I guess,” Crowley frowned. “anyways, I escaped into the woods. I was going to head here I think to wait it out the mob for a while, but then it began to snow. I…” he blushed, “I tend to get a tad lethargic in the cold and well… I think I must have fell asleep beside a tree. I wasnt really thinking clearly. I remember I just wanted to get away and I think I was trying to miracle myself warmer while I ran... but it's all a bit fuzzy.”

Aziraphale sighed. 

“You need to be more careful, Crowley.”

The demon hummed but didn’t say anything as the angel began to stoke the fire.

“Feel free to rest here until you regain your strength, but you shouldn’t stay long. This is a convent. If the monks catch word from the nearby town of having spotted a demon headed this direction, they may come searching for you.”

“Right, yeah of course,” Crowley nodded, “just a little nap then and I’ll be out of your hair, Aziraphale.”

The angel hesitated. The demon’s tone was… off. 

“Crowley?”

“Hmm?” 

“I… no, never mind. Just rest. I’ll keep watch for you.”

“Okay,” the demon laid back down, ignoring the clothes he had been handed to change into for now, as he snuggled deeper under the warm blankets beside the fire. 

Only when his breathing evened out, did Aziraphale step closer and miracle up another, much warmer blanket, as he laid it down upon the demon before sitting back down at his desk to continue working. And if he paid more attention to the soft snores and less attention upon the words that seemed to blur before his eyes, well, no one was awake to call him out on that. He was just relieved, of course, that his friendly counterpart was alive to continue their arrangement. Yes, that’s what it is, relief for a business partner. Nothing more. Nothing…


	17. Black Plague, 1300s AD, Europe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley, Demon, Tempter, and … Healer?
> 
> Also, What's the J stand for?

The thirteenth and fourteenth centuries were the worst. Plague after plague, war after war. The four horsemen were nothing if not productive during this period, and no matter what anyone did, nothing would stop the number of casualties from increasing. Death was a constant presence, and War, Pollution, and Pestilence especially, were wreaking havoc upon the humans with no signs of stopping. 

If Azrael was bothered by the amount of souls he was being forced to handle, he never showed any signs. Kral had run into his brother multiple times throughout history and especially during that time period, but the other being never seemed bothered by what was happening, but neither did he seem pleased. 

Kral couldn’t blame Azrael for disassociating himself. Once you were given a task by Mother, it didn’t matter what you thought or felt, you had to do it. Or at least, it didn’t matter, so long as you never verbally questioned her Will. 

Such thoughts were better left unentertained. 

For most demons, this century would have been pleasing to their twisted demonic souls, but to Kral, this was the worst sort of torment. To have power and be able to do nothing. If Hell had any idea he was planning to try and heal humans to stop the spread of the plague, they would have dragged him back to Hell kicking and screaming, no matter his rank. That’s why he had to be creative. That’s why he used his cunning to manipulate Hell into believing he had started the plague personally. That his ability to make sick a lowly rat was proof enough that he alone could cause the death of millions. 

Getting the commendation from Hell for the plagues was as painful as it was bittersweet. With that single commendation alone, he had been given two entire decades off work. Twenty whole years to do anything he wanted with no limits on his miracles, no limits on his person. No checkups either. It was beautiful, and yet he despised himself for having claimed such an atrocity as his own. 

Still, he used this time to his advantage and he reached within himself for that brilliant little light that had stayed throughout his Fall and that remained even now, burning and silent, as though it knew he would call upon it when the time was right. 

That time was now. 

Kral reached for his Grace and for the first time since he was reborn a demon, Grace surged into his core. It was like stepping into a cool breeze on a hot summer’s day. It was like being handed an ice-cold drink to sip and enjoy. It was like being home again, refreshed, and reinvigorated.

Dressed in a long dark cloak and covering his face with one of the long-beaked masks that the human doctors had begun to wear recently to try and fend off the plague, he disguised himself amongst the populace. He dragged his red curls up into a bun and he kept it tight and well bound so no one would draw much attention to his unique flame colored hair. He didn’t want to risk anyone from either side recognizing him, and then he moved as though a shadow of Death itself, through each home within the heart of Europe. 

For those who could be healed, he did so, pulling upon the grace within himself and shoving it into the bodies of the decrepit, the sick, the injured, and the near dead. If Azrael was angry about the souls Kral was saving, he never said a word, nor did he attempt to stop him. Instead, Death hung at his back, walking with him, ‘silent as the grave’. A chilling description spoken by humans to describe the presence of death, and one Kral felt was well justified. He felt cold with how Death lingered in his peripheral. He had even tried to speak to Azrael, but Kral knew his brother wasn’t truly there. There were far too many souls in need of his services for Azrael to be present in the moment.

Still that didn’t stop Kral from talking a mile a minute some days to his brother, whether the other was listening or not. Kral was hurting. His Grace was writhing in agony due to the suffering going on around him. Even his demonic essence, for all that it had been distorted and changed from the Fall, seemed to flinch away from the sights and cries of the dead and dying. 

A real prince of Hell I am, he thought to himself bitterly. Can’t even stand the sound of the damned. 

But it’s not just death, is it? a voice whispered in his mind. It’s millions. You took the blame for millions onto your own shoulders, and now you must bear their suffering and remember their names when no one else can. 

Names…

What’s in a name? 

Crowley’s own name had been a mere disguise in the beginning. A quick fearfully spoken name given life. A name that had now come to mean something far more beautiful than the name Kral ever had. Even more beautiful than his former angelic name. Crowley, a name he had given a new meaning to. A name that brought about change and promoted freedom. A bird, black as night, able to rise above the ashes. Sounded more like a phoenix in human mythology, but that is what the name Crowley meant to Kral. 

Freedom.

Rising.

Redemption. 

Grace.

A chance to remake himself. To leave behind old hurts. To forge a new destiny. To love an Angel.

To love Aziraphale. Crowley was the name given only to Aziraphale. It was a name promising love.

Perhaps that is why when people asked his name after he healed them, he gave them a brand-new name. A name made on the fly, because Crowley was just for Aziraphale and Kral was a name too demonic and to weighted to ever mean anything pure. 

“Are you an angel?” the people would always whisper. 

“No,” he would tell them simply. For whom he truly was, should always remain hidden. “You may call me Jaalam.”

And Jaalam would spend the next twenty years concealed under that identity, healing the sick and dying of Europe. And always in his wake, death would follow, watching and silent, reaping the souls that Jaalam could not save. Acting as an ear for his brother’s emotional pain and a constant familiar presence for the not-quite-angel not-quite-demon to lean upon as an anchor tossed with reckless abandon into a sea of misery.


	18. Invention of the Printing Press, 1440 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale assists with a fabulous discovery. 
> 
> Don't hate on poor Azzy.  
> He's a bit brainwashed.  
> Not to mention terrified of Heaven's wrath.  
> Who can blame him?

Aziraphale was never so happy for the start of the fifteenth century. Much like his counterpart who he hadn’t seen at all in nearly two centuries, he despised the superstitions and the plagues. He couldn’t blame Crowley for going to sleep like he had last century (Crowley never let on to his healings, claimed he had been sleeping the entire time). 

Aziraphale couldn’t quite say he understood why the demon slept so much, but he certainly could not blame him for doing so during those specific decades, all that sickness and famine. And while Crowley slept, Aziraphale made certain that both demonic and angelic actions continued around the globe, far away from Europe, per heavenly orders, and a few temptations for good measure to keep Crowley out of trouble. 

Though Aziraphale had wanted to help those needy humans suffering over in Europe, the angel had been denied his request, and was instead firmly lectured and sent in the opposite direction towards Japan. He had been angry at first, but then he had just been resigned. Crowley had seemed frustrated and distraught by the deaths of so many innocents too, and so Aziraphale had tried to comfort his friend, but when the demon suggested almost insistently just going and helping despite their orders from above and below, well… he couldn’t do it. 

He loved the humans. He loved the world. He lo-liked Crowley, but he couldn’t do it. He had blamed the demon for trying to tempt him. An old argument and one that had made the other roll his eyes, but it wasn’t a lie. If he went, what if Aziraphale Fell for disobeying God? What if he went and heaven discovered Crowley? 

So no, he rejected the suggestion and the demon disappeared, ranting about sleeping for the next few decades. And Aziraphale, now alone with his guilt and worries, focused on other things.

One of the few big events that occurred during that period between the end of the 14th century and the beginning of the 15th century; an event that Aziraphale was all too happy to assist with; was the invention of the printing press. 

Finally, after years of handwritten scrolls and books being procured over an extended and incredibly tedious effort, printed copies could be given out to the masses. Books that would be lost if the original copy were destroyed (such as in the case of the Alexandria Library, which he tried desperately not to think about), could finally be transferred onto paper and could be preserved throughout the four corners of the world to be read and enjoyed by all. 

And if in the future, Aziraphale carried out his own idea to create an entire bookshop of his own preciously assorted tomes, scrolls, and books, well then the angel would never be as proud of any miracle he had ever performed as the one that had assisted the humans in printing knowledge onto widespread sheets of paper. Pages to be bound, stored, and enjoyed for all eternity by those who love to read.


	19. Rise of the Occult and the Spanish Inquisition, 1478 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is a softie. Who also happens to be a badass Prince of Hell. This can lead to a rather explosive display of emotions.

The burning of witches and the hunting of demons had become a rather regular occurrence on Earth at this time. It was not unheard of for a woman or man to be burned at the stake or drowned to prove their ‘hellish’ origins. 

Crowley knew this and never allowed it to bother him. Because of his snake eyes and his unique red hair, he had suffered his own destruction and torture at the hands of human’s multiple times in the past several hundred years. It was almost becoming reliable, expecting humans to attack him for merely existing, whether he did anything demonic or not. Which most of the time, no, he really hadn’t done a thing. 

And so it was that Crowley wasn’t overly shocked when he came upon a small town in the middle of nowhere and heard shouting. He wasn’t overly shocked when he saw a small mob with torches and pitchforks. He wasn’t overly shocked when he heard the words ‘witch’, ‘evil’, and ‘demon’ thrown around. What did surprise him was who they were shouting those words at. Who it was they were calling evil. Just who it was that they thought might be possessed by demons.

Crowley didn’t know what he had been expecting when he walked up and watched with the crowd as some poor bastard was drowned in the lake. Most humans believed if they were truly demonic the bodies would float back up to the surface where they would then be killed. If they weren’t hellions, they would drown. Why they thought that was a good way of finding out when it still meant the person, whether innocent or guilty would die no matter what, he never did understand. It was a thought he tended to ignore. Humans, he had learned, could be far worse than any demon. 

This was, however, not one of those days that Crowley was able to set his feelings on this matter to the side. When the bubbles on the surface vanished, the crowd began to talk and shout. The person in charge of ‘drowning’ out the source of evil, slowly pulled the victim or in this case, victims, up out of the water. And it was in that moment, for the Prince of Hell, when time stood still. Literally. 

The demon Crowley was not known for violence amongst humans. He was not someone who acted recklessly or even lost his temper most days when angered. He was not someone who relished or used the raging hellfire within his soul for personal vengeance. 

Perhaps that is why Aziraphale was so shocked and horrified when, on that singular day, a dark and powerful demonic event occurred near his location. The angel had been reading in his small temporary home in a neighboring village, just enjoying the somewhat dreary looking day outside when it happened. The waves of anger, of hate, and of pain nearly knocked Aziraphale to his knees. But what truly horrified him, was that he recognized the demonic signature in action. 

With a quick flap of his wings, the angel had launched himself out of the house and towards the west where the small town, even from a great distance, could be seen billowing with heavy smoke, having been set aflame. The scent of brimstone, sulfuric ash, and hellfire was still a thick odor as the angel shut off his ability to breathe and dove down.   
What he had been expecting upon his arrival, he didn’t know, but when he arrived it was like walking through an area having suffered an atomic bomb. The ground was nothing but cinders. Human corpses burnt to almost nothing were now spread out, lying motionless and nearly formless around the angel’s feet. 

The undertone of burning flesh was almost as powerful as the sulfur and brimstone when in closer proximity. It was horrendous and Aziraphale feared what had caused this desolation. He knew his counterpart. For almost five thousand years, Crowley had never caused the deaths of humans personally if he could help it. Butterfly effects maybe, but by his own hand and with the use of his own demonic power… never. That the demon would do this, Aziraphale feared what he would find as the cause behind this act of violence. 

Seeking out the demon with his mind, he was alarmed to realize the other wasn’t on earth anymore. Whatever had happened, either Crowley fled back down to Hell willingly or… or whatever he had done here, whatever had caused this, had destroyed the demon as much as it had the people and landscape around him. 

Pushing that thought to the wayside, the angel stumbled through the small decimated town. He followed the bodies until he came upon the largest portion of charred remains. Bodies that looked far worse off than those at the edge of the town had been. It was reminiscent of Pompeii, which was not a time in history the angel wished to think much about.   
This must have been where Crowley was, he realized, because the bodies littering the ground around him were nothing but black-ash husks. 

With eyes peeled, Aziraphale studied each body, pushing down the growing dread and nausea he felt rising within him until his knees gave out as he found the source of this destruction. 

Kneeling in the scattered ashes of the deceased, his head bowed as though he were alive and merely resting, was the demon. 

Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to touch the other’s corporation. It was obvious his body was only a shell and one which would undoubtedly crumble at the slightest pressure. The demon’s true self was back in Hell, Aziraphale knew this. And yet, the positioning of the demon’s body looked as though he had just collapsed where he had stood, as though he were in a state of mourning or perhaps ill. It made the angel look closer at what exactly the demon had been facing when he had all but imploded. 

And suddenly the angel wished he hadn’t. 

He wished he had never come here. Never seen. 

He knew immediately why the demon had reacted as he had. He himself felt the heavenly power within his angelic soul rumble with rage and pain, with wrath. And he couldn’t imagine Crowley, poor Crowley. A demon who had proven time and time again that he loved children despite his many denials, had witnessed this nightmarish sight. 

The sight of two innocent young girls, babies really, bound together; their bodies bloated and nearly unrecognizable due to the injures that must have been done to them prior to the drowning. It was a dreadful, painful, vile, hideously shocking sight and one that made the angel weep with understanding. 

“Oh Crowley…” he whispered, and he grieved for the children and for the demon also, who had taken retribution on their behalf.


	20. Leonardo Da Vinci, 1500 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is beautiful. Crowley is a walking masterpiece.

Leonardo was a fabulous painter and prided himself in painting only the most beautiful sceneries and people. His favorite muse of all was the mysterious gentleman named Antony J. Crowley. Antony was such a beautiful man with the clearest and whitest skin he had ever seen. Scattered across that skin was a blanket of freckles, each meticulously placed as though in a set pattern. And then there were the dark shades and the beautiful red hair, his thin body, and muscular arms. And most interesting of all to Leonardo was the small black serpent, not unlike a brand, on the side of the man’s face. It seemed alive sometimes. 

Leonardo couldn’t explain it. He didn’t believe in the supernatural or in ghosts, but something about touching that little mark often caused him to shiver, as though touching something… more. And then there were the bold black tattoos that ran up the Antony’s arms, from elbow to shoulder and down the expanse of his back. 

When Leonardo had questioned Antony on the unique art, the other had explained he had once visited Africa and had been bestowed the art as a gift by one of the villagers there. It was a beautiful crafted piece of art. 

On both his arms, black bold lines painted serpents born of the inferno, wrapped around the lean muscles of his biceps, weaving in and out of the flames as though slithering and alive. And on his back, depicted in the same bold black ink, was a beautiful orchard of flowers that wrapped around a fiery sword which was covered in vines, and at the top of that sword sat a halo with small horns. It was horribly enchanting, a true masterpiece. 

While not a huge fan of pain, the artist couldn’t help but admit he was a tad jealous. While he loved painting on canvas, the idea of having his art placed upon the human body was also a beautiful idea of how to better express to others what it was that he felt was most important. 

Still, he never felt comfortable with the idea of following through with his fantasy and instead kept his art solely upon what could be displayed to all people upon a canvas. And since Antony was important to him, Leonardo took to painting the other man, most often in the nude, whenever possible. These paintings weren’t truly for the public, though a couple did become rather famous. Mostly he just wanted to paint the person he loved most in the world, and for him, that was Antony. 

It was not a sexual relationship per say. More platonic really, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the other’s beauty and body for the masterpiece that it was, and always made certain to tell Antony that whenever possible. Because to him, Antony Crowley was an exquisite sculpture made up of well-defined muscles, bones, and blood. A living creature, none more gorgeous or worthy of being his muse. At least in his mind.

When Leonardo died, Antony was at his funeral. He sold the artists’ paintings, locked a few others away in a special location where he kept his own historical collection, and then there was one that he kept for himself within his bedchamber. It was not a painting that anyone else might find beautiful, but for him it was the most precious gift the artist could have left him. It was a scene depicting a garden and in the center of that garden, sitting beneath the apple tree and eating an apple, was Crowley. 

Leonardo didn’t depict the demon as the villain of the story, but as an intricate part of the story itself. And to Kral, Prince of Hell who is known for his fiery temper and manipulative persona, known as the Architect of Sin, it was the best gift anyone could give to him. A painting from the eyes of someone who saw him for who he is, and not just the monster he makes himself out to be.


	21. Martin Luther, 1515 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale discovers God's free will for the first time, but Heaven comes to stomp it down.

Aziraphale enjoyed sitting in the university and listening to the lessons of one Martin Luther. For so many years, the church had kept the writings of God locked away from the public masses and finally someone was brave enough to stand up and say it isn’t right. That it is okay to question from time to time. That it is okay to think for yourself. 

Gabriel probably would have been disgusted, but Aziraphale soaked in the human’s words, amazed by his teachings and by his thinking. He couldn’t help but admire the human, so brave to go against the church like he is. Aziraphale wished he too could be brave enough to speak out and act out what it was he believed was right. 

Thoughts came to him, unbidden, of the great rebellion in heaven and to that lost Archangel who had spoken out, preaching free will, love, grace, and forgiveness. Why was it that heaven was just as lost as the humans they were supposed to be guiding? Always shutting down questions that needed to be asked due to fear and their wish to control others. It was not the first time Aziraphale had felt heaven was wrong and it would not be the last. 

Something had to give at some point, he knew. 

Martin Luther had copied the word of God from the prophets and had been sending out his manuscripts throughout England. Many of them then being smuggled out farther into the world. 

Aziraphale, though knowing it was not his mission, chose to assist him. He walked the streets blessing people left and right. He praised God whenever possible and made certain the humans he touched who he cured realized that it was because of God’s love and mercy that they were healed. He wanted to show his trust and faith in his creator. He wanted to help the humans he came to adore to realize that they could ask questions and think for themselves without judgement. 

Free will. 

The tree of good and evil. 

It all made so much sense now that he thought about it. 

The ineffable plan. 

God’s plan for the world. 

A second chance at redemption. 

The freedom to understand wrong and right and to make a choice for themselves to either believe or not believe that there is a God, a creator who loves and adores them. A God who came to earth as a human baby and died for them, living through temptation and the pain of a human life. A God who rose again and conquered the very nature of death so that death had no say in the souls of the redeemed. 

Aziraphale believed in this plan and sought to show that belief in whatever form possible. 

It was not a decision that made Heaven happy. 

Though he believed in God, Aziraphale had come to regard heaven and the archangels as separate entities. Though they be his superiors and are the individuals whom he respects, he has begun to believe that something is amiss up in heaven. He knew not what, but something big was on the horizon. Something he had a feeling, would change everything. 

Heaven came down when Aziraphale began to bless the people and heal injuries and illnesses. They came down and they were not pleased with him and made it known. Unlike Hell though, they weren’t violent in the physical sense. They were however emotionally and mentally cruel. They crushed Aziraphale’s happiness by stating the humans were not heaven’s responsibility and that there were more pressing matters that should be addressed by their ‘best’ field agent. They crushed Aziraphale then personally by ridiculing his efforts, stating they were hardly enough to change the hearts of an entire species. Ridiculing his likes and wants, mocking his corporation and the human necessities that he had come to enjoy. They rebuked what made him Aziraphale. 

They continued to crush the spirit of the ‘Principality’ by claiming him naïve of God’s will, despite good intentions. And Aziraphale found himself hurt and confused by the mixed answers he was getting both from God’s word and the Archangels. 

God preached love and acceptance and mercy. Kindness and forgiveness. But Heaven demanded rule, respect, loyalty, and structure. As the Archangels left the lone angel upon the earth, once more separated from heaven, and feeling very lost as to what God’s Will truly is, Aziraphale left England to try and sort out his thoughts. His emotions and ideals one more left mangled in the wake of hypocrisy.


	22. Galileo Galilei, 1574 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley meets a new friend while stargazing.

Kral had always loved the stars. Partly because they were truly a beautiful sight to behold, but also… also because he had been one of the angels who had willed some of them into existence. It hadn’t been his original job in heaven, but he had found an unusual sense of freedom and joy when crafting those swirling masses made up of atoms, particles, gasses, and light; something he had often found himself doing when he wasn’t busy completing the tasks God had set for him. A very early version of self-care, he realized now. 

The time before the fall was not something he liked to think about often, if ever. He had loved his siblings and all those he had worked with in the heavenly realm, but then the Rebellion occurred, and everything changed. A third of those he loved were wiped from existence and a third more fell to change into monstrous, vile creatures. Heaven despised the demons and thought them something that should be destroyed. His former angelic self though, he had thought them something to be loved. 

Kral looked down, away from the stars and at the earth surrounding him. What he wouldn’t give to see the stars once more in person. Oh, he had wings of course and could likely escape the Earth and visit his beautiful creations, but he had something so much more important now to stay for. To protect. To admire. To love. Even if from a distance. It felt like everything he loved could only be admired from a distance. 

“Hey! Are you okay, mister?”

Crowley blinked and looked up. His eyes settling upon a young boy, maybe around six or seven, who was standing in front of him, a worried look in his eye.

“What?” Crowley choked out, voice a bit hoarse. He cleared it and tried again. “Sorry, what? I’m fine.”

“You look sad,” the boy answered bluntly. 

“Is that a crime?” Crowley snapped, more irritably than he had meant to. 

The young boy took a quick step back at his tone, hands raised. “No… it’s not.”

Crowley looked away again. He figured the child would walk away now, leave him to his melancholy, but instead, to his surprise and utter perplexity, the small human stepped closer and sat down beside him. 

“I enjoy looking at the stars when I’m sad too,” the other admitted. “They just… have a way of cheering me up. My grandmother recently passed and that’s why I came here, because I wanted to look at the stars. She always liked to look at them with me.”

Crowley breathed in. “Sorry to hear that kid.”

The boy smiled sadly, turning to the demon. 

“Do you have a particular favorite?”

Crowley stared at the kid in silence for a moment. 

“I like that one,” the boy pointed up, not at all bothered by the lack of response. “It looks like an archer!”

“It is a nice one,” Crowley agreed. 

He remembered it was Lucifer, known as Samael at the time, who had made that constellation. He remembered when his brother had shown it to him. So proud of his art. Of his light. And Crowley had been delighted for him. Such beauty, his brother could create, such skill.

The boy grinned up at him, delighted the other agreed. Crowley was a bit flabbergasted by this child. Where were his parents?

“I always like to imagine when someone dies, they go into the stars,” the boy said with a touch of sorrow, “Do you think that’s what happens?”

Crowley sighed. He knew the truth, but he couldn’t bring himself to be that cruel. 

“Maybe,” was what he spoke in reply.

“Do you have someone you love up there?” the boy questioned hesitantly, “is that why your sad?”

Crowley was silent. Thoughts turned back to a happier and simpler time when he loved a human and that human loved him, but that was centuries ago. He thought it best to leave the past in the past. Besides, as much as he had adored Alexander, no one compared to his Angel.

The boy never pushed him to answer. Instead, they just remained sitting for a time, looking up at the stars above.

“You never said what your favorite star was,” the boy suddenly spoke several minutes later. 

“Oh, uh… Alpha Centauri, I guess.”

The child blinked. “Where is that?”

“Oh, its…” Crowley grimaced. Whoops, him, and his big mouth. “Uh, it’s deeper into space. It’s a small system. You can…” he took a breath, “you can see it right past the southern cross. See the little cross over there,” he pointed, “the four points.”

“Oh… yeah I see it! Wow, that is a good one. It’s a really bright star.”

“Yeah… yeah it is. It’s… well, it’s actually a star nursery.”

The boy stared at him in amazement. 

“What is that?” he whispered in wonderment.

Crowley blushed at the boy’s obvious delight. 

“It’s… it’s when a system of stars deconstructs the oldest stars and makes new stars in an endless cycle of rebirth.”

“Woah…” the boy’s green eyes were wide with awe. “That’s amazing! You’re really smart, Mister!”

“Thanks.”

“One day, I want to see the stars with my own eyes,” the boy grinned. 

Crowley smiled gently. The kid’s enthusiasm reminded him of his own. Of how he too had once been captivated by the beauty of space. 

“Maybe you will one day,” Crowley spoke before thinking it through. 

It was highly unlikely, but the boy seemed to believe him. His eyes lit up with joy and a look of pure unadulterated glee. 

A sharp whistle in the distance drew both of their attention. 

“Galileo let’s go!” a voice shouted.

“That’s my dad,” the kid sighed, “I have to go now.”

He turned to Crowley who met his gaze.

“It was real nice speaking with you, Mister.”

“You as well, Galileo,” Crowley smiled, and it reached his eyes.

The boy smiled back before waving, running towards his father. 

It would be another half century, but the boy Galileo Galilei would make his dream come true and would see the stars for himself through the aid of the first telescope.


	23. Shakespeare, 1601 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enemies to Friends. Or are they?

Aziraphale couldn’t believe how much he enjoyed the plays and writings of one William Shakespeare. Not too many centuries after the invention of the printing press, Shakespeare had stolen the angels undivided attention. They were all so… divine, his works. So unique and creative. He loved watching the humans use their imaginations and ingenuity, bringing joy to the masses. It was so very enchanting to be caught up in those stories this man had imagined and brought to life. It also helped the angel to not think about the horrors of the past several centuries, filled with epidemic. 

It was his luck he had met the humans that he had and that his interactions with them ultimately led him going back to Europe into the heart of England where the Globe Theatre was soon to be built.

Perhaps that is why he loved this period of Shakespearian literature and art. It was so… distinct, so inspiring. Almost romantic in a way. 

Only made worse (or better) when his demon counterpart showed up on occasion, always willing to chat and spend time with Aziraphale. Always bringing with him a small treat for the angel, whether it be food, flowers, or story. And Aziraphale, he couldn’t bring himself to reject those little treasures. Because that is what they were, he realized, treasures that the demon had found and known the angel would enjoy. It made the entire experience that much more enchanting, though he would never admit it out loud. 

Demons according to heaven were cold, and ruthless, violent, and unloving. Crowley… well, he was never a very good demon. And perhaps Aziraphale wasn’t a very good angel. It was why the arrangement worked. It was why despite being enemies, both would dare to consider one another a friend (reluctantly on the Angel’s part). It was frightening and pleasing and oh so many different things, but above all, it was special because it was theirs, this friendship. 

Crowley was not a nice person, but neither was he evil. That was something Aziraphale had figured out relatively quickly. And what the demon did and how he acted and all those little soft, kind, gentle things the demon would do from time to time, it was always and only for Aziraphale. Or for kids. But mostly for Aziraphale. 

That was why Aziraphale had wanted to share something he loved with the demon. Something he thought Crowley might also be able to enjoy too. Though he knew the other was not into the Arts like he was (little did he know), Aziraphale did understand that Crowley enjoyed comedy, and so he invited his counterpart to a practice that William had invited Aziraphale too. Though it technically wasn’t for a comedy, but Aziraphale found it amusing. Maybe Crowley would too! 

He was so caught up in the play that he hadn’t even realized Crowley had stepped into the theatre until his presence was already right beside him. 

“I thought you said we would be inconspicuous?” Crowley’s voice startled him, causing him to nearly toss the grapes he had recently purchased from a fruit stand outside. 

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale smiled in greeting.

“Where are the crowds?” the demon questioned again. 

Aziraphale sighed. “Yes, well, it didn’t work out quite as I had planned, dear boy.”

Crowley felt himself warm at the term of endearment. Aziraphale had recently begun to call him that. Dear, or dear boy, or even dear girl when he was in his feminine form. It was all so… lovely. 

Clearing his throat, Crowley eyed the actors.

“This isn’t one of his gloomy ones is it?” he grumbled, “I prefer the funny ones.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, unfortunately this was the only open practice he had going today. So sorry.”

“You’re not,” Crowley snorted.

“No,” agreed Aziraphale.

The demon snickered. “Bastard.”

The angel only smiled knowingly to himself as he popped another grape into his mouth. 

“Ah gentlemen!” the voice of Shakespeare cut in.

Aziraphale smiled as the human ran over to them. William was truly a fine fellow. 

“So, I have a favor to ask,” the writer began. 

“Of course, dear chap,” the angel smiled, and Crowley’s smile fell. Did the angel call everyone dear?

“Well, could you as the audience, give us more to work with? You know, cheer and let loose with your voices!”

“Oh certainly,” the angel agreed, delighted.

Crowley just stared down the human who shot him a nervous glance and hurried back towards the stage. Burbage and Shakespeare got into an argument on stage a moment later and Aziraphale hurried to reassure the young actor that yes, it was all going very smashingly, good job all around, as Crowley hung back. 

Honestly, the demon was a bit disgruntled by all of this. Why was he even here? The angel seemed to be ignoring him for the most part, so why had he even bothered to come?   
“And what does your friend think?” the actor suddenly asked quite loudly, drawing Crowley’s attention.

Aziraphale paled. “Oh, he’s not, I mean we aren’t… he’s not my friend and…”

Kral felt his heart drop and a surge of hurt filled him as the angel denied their friendship. He knew the other was scared, but to deny him to the humans even if what he said was clearly a lie… 

“I think you should just get on with it,” the demon snapped at the actor whose eyes widened and he nodded, hurrying back on stage.

Aziraphale frowned at the demon, but Crowley looked away. He was never so glad for the invention of black lenses. It had made the past couple thousand years much more bearable. 

“To be or not to be, that is the question…” the actor started.

“TO BE!” Aziraphale shouted to try and be enthusiastic and helpful as his role as the audience. “OR Not be. Buck up Hamlet!”

His eyes strayed to Crowley as he said this, but the demon wasn’t even looking at him. If anything, his counterpart had moved several steps away.  
As the actor continued, Aziraphale attempted to draw the demon back into conversation.

“He’s very good, isn’t he?” Aziraphale asked him in a hushed tone, stepping closer.

Crowley didn’t move away again, but he stiffened. 

“Age does not wither, not custom stale his infinite variety.”

Aziraphale exhaled slowly at the sound of those soft words, his eyes glued to his counterpart who wouldn’t meet his gaze. 

“Crowley, that was…”

“Oh, I liked that!” Shakespeare interrupted, “Mind if I use that?”

Crowley waved him away, allowing it.

Aziraphale was a bit annoyed to be interrupted while expressing himself, but perhaps it was for the best. 

“Listen Crowley, I…”

“You called me for a job, yes?” the demon spoke over him. 

“Oh, yes, I…”

“It’s your turn, Angel.”

“Well I know, dear boy, that is why I called you here specifically,” he replied.

‘Lies’ his mind whispered to him, he had really called Crowley here to enjoy the theatre with him, but everything was going wrong. He knew it was his own fault.  
“For what reason?” Crowley questioned, finally turning to him.

Aziraphale really hated those dark glasses. It made it difficult to gage his friend’s feelings. 

“I… I wanted to ask if you could assist me in bringing some stardom to Shakespeare’s plays.”

Crowley stared at the other and Aziraphale stared back. He felt like the demon was searching for something, but then Crowley’s shoulders drooped, and he nodded.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“O-Oh, jolly good, yes, well… thank you Crowley. I will be leaving for that mission in a couple hours. Would you… would you like to go to lunch?”

Crowley hesitated.

“You don’t have to,” Aziraphale hurried to assure him, “I just… well I’m a bit hungry and…”

“Yeah okay,” the demon replied.

The angel held his breath as the demon shot him a slight smile. It looked a bit sad and Aziraphale wondered why that was before shaking himself. Probably just his imagination. 

“Oh good, then let’s be off, dear boy,” Aziraphale smiled as he walked out with Crowley by his side.

Neither even remembered the actors who watched their audience leave with gaping mouths.


	24. Bastille, French Revolution, 1793 AD, Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crepes. Yummy yummy.

Kral was beginning to realize he would do just about anything for his angel. It was not an overly pleasing thought and yet he could admit to himself that it was far too late to try and change now. After thousands of years together, Crowley loved the angel more than the world itself. If hell wanted to start Armageddon, which was a true possibility considering the rumors circulating underground, Kral would let it happen if it meant his angel was spared. 

Thoughts like that were dangerous. 

And yet he couldn’t stop himself. He watched the angel from afar nearly religiously. He never wanted to pass up a chance to protect his precious friend should the need arise, and boy did it arise. How an angel could get into so many scrapes and bothersome happenings, Crowley would never know. It both amused, annoyed, and exhausted him. Such a troublesome angel, but Aziraphale was his, and it was far past those times in history when the demon would have let just anything happen to the other because it was of his own making; Karma, in other words. But no, he loved Aziraphale too much now to ever consider walking away when his angel was in need of help. 

And so here he was, in a French prison, watching with a mixture of delight and frustration as his angel argued with a guard about this all being just a giant mistake. When Crowley had heard enough of the argument to figure out mostly what happened to cause his angel to be tossed in a French prison, he snapped his fingers, stifling a laugh when Aziraphale continued to talk, not having noticed time come to a standstill around him.

“Animals, really,” the angel finally huffed. 

“Animals don’t kill people with big head-chopping machines angel, only people do that.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale shouted, surprised but pleased to see his friend.

Crowley met his eyes with his own, true feelings forever hidden behind darkened lenses. The serpent upon his cheek coiled tighter. 

“Oh, good lord,” Aziraphale muttered under his breath, taking in his counterpart with a blush. Crowley looked truly mesmerizing in anything he wore, the angel thought with a groan. 

“I don’t want to hear it from you,” Crowley waved at Aziraphale’s own get up, thinking the angel was mocking him. “What are you wearing anyway?”

The angel looked down at his clothes with confusion. “What’s wrong with it? I like dressing this way. I have standards.”

Crowley just sighed, amused despite himself as the Angel pulled at the lace of his jacket somewhat anxiously. 

“What are you doing here, Aziraphale?” the demon finally questioned him. 

The angel shuffled his feet in a worried manner. He already knew what Crowley would say if he told him the truth. 

“Well…”

Crowley stared at him.

“I just… I was craving some crepes and no place has as good a crepe as…”

“Crepes?” the demon interrupted. His expression was anything but impressed. “I thought you were working on opening a bookshop in London?”

“I was, am, but then I got a bit peckish while working, and …”

“And what?” Crowley mocked, “decided to pop across the channel during a revolution just to get crepes?”

Aziraphale looked away in shame, but the demon just sighed. They both knew why the angel had truly come to this area. Like always, he had attempted to find a loophole in the orders handed down to him from heaven to help those in need. A bloody angel through and through, his Aziraphale. It seemed like lately the angel had become more… iconoclastic. More defiant of his heavenly mandates. 

“And so, what are you doing here?” Aziraphale shot back.

Kral studied the angel before him, knowing how his counterpart would take his next words. It hurt that he knew Aziraphale wouldn’t trust him, no matter the years they’ve spent knowing one another, but he had come to just accept it as fact. Kral is a demon and Aziraphale is an angel. They can never mix. 

“I was given a commendation.”

The angel’s heart dropped; mouth dry. No… no it couldn’t be true. Crowley wasn’t violent. Well, he was a tad belligerent at times, but not like this. He didn’t kill people, not unless he absolutely had to, or unless it was an accident... But something like this, with a guillotine and executions just for jay walking? No, Aziraphale refused to believe it…   
and yet, a small twinge of doubt still existed deep within his mind. 

“This is your demonic work?” he felt the question slip past his lips before he could stop it. 

The demon stared at him in silence, but the hurt was obvious in the way he held himself. Aziraphale felt a sharp stab of guilt but brushed it away. He needed to know, regardless.   
“Of course not,” Crowley stated slowly, purposefully, eyes locked on the angels. “I enjoy a bit of a mischief and some misery now and again, you know that, but not like this. Never this. Humans, they do enough vile things on their own. I just… take advantage of the opportunity that it presents for me; commendations and the like.” 

Aziraphale sighed in relief. It wasn’t Crowley. He shouldn’t have doubted the demon, he knew this, but he couldn’t not consider the possibility. 

“Yes, well… care to join me for lunch?” the angel offered, trying to change the subject. It was always how he changed the subject. 

His method to try and smooth over a gaping wound. 

Crowley chuckled flatly in exasperation, shaking his head as he snapped his fingers and the chains fell from the angel’s wrists. 

“Why couldn’t you escape on your own?” the demon finally asked him as they walked together towards the exit. 

Neither had mentioned how the demon had switched out the clothes of the guard with Aziraphale’s own aristocratic garb, leaving the executioner to die a death of his own making. 

“I was sent a strongly worded message from Gabriel to not do anymore ‘frivolous’ miracles.”

“Ah.”

“Thank you, Crowley, my dear, for rescuing me,” Aziraphale finally said as they stepped out onto the street.

“Don’t thank me, Aziraphale,” Crowley turned to him, completely serious, “it’s to dangerous if anyone were to overhear. And my lot, they don’t just send strongly worded letters.”

Aziraphale smiled sadly. “Yes well, all the same, dear boy.”

Crowley eyed the other with annoyance before giving in to the angel’s unspoken plea; his shoulders relaxing. 

“Whatever, ‘ccepted. Now come on angel, let’s go eat.”


	25. Accolades of War, 1821 AD, Napoleon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends to... lovers? Could such a thing ever exist between them?

Kral stood in the falling rain. 

He had just come up from downstairs, having been given yet another commendation. Yet another reward for something he hadn’t done. Napoleon Bonaparte had led war after war, conquering lands and killing hundreds of thousands. And now Napoleon was dead, and all of his ‘victories’ had been placed under the demons name. 

All those human lives lost and for what? For Napoleon to die half a century later. It was like Alexander’s conquests all over again. It was such a waste of time.   
Sure, maybe the humans will go down in history, their names known, but for what? For being a subjugator? For their time as one of many Emperors upon this planet?

Kral closed his eyes as the drops of rain splattered against him, soaking his clothes, and drenching his hair. He looked like a drowned snake he was sure, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He felt so numb. Yet another human he had come to care about was dead before his due time. 

He didn’t mind the cool wind. He didn’t feel his body shiver with the cold. He didn’t care that his thoughts were beginning to cloud. That his limbs had become stiff and achy. That he was slowly freezing to death due to his cold-blooded nature. After all, why should he care to live, if there is nothing to live for? If no one cares whether he exists or not. 

He probably would have stood there forever until he discorporated, had it not been for the sudden appearance of an umbrella and a concerned looking young woman. 

“Oh, my dear, you are soaked through. What are you doing just standing here? Your freezing. Are you okay?”

It took him a moment to realize he was being asked a question. His brain had shorted circuited at the words ‘my dear’, but it wasn’t Aziraphale standing there. Just a human… a good human, who reminds him of his angel.

“Wha-” Crowley starts to ask, but she has already pushed past her earlier inquiry. 

Now she is pulling him with her down the street, talking despite his not having answered her, and he thinks maybe, just maybe, there is something worth living for after all. 

‘Aziraphale’, he thinks to himself, before his eyes flicker to the woman. ‘And perhaps a few humans are worth it too.’

~~

Aziraphale was just about to lock up and turn in for the night when the bell above his door rang out, echoing throughout the empty little bookshop and alerting him that someone had entered the shop. The angel knew he had locked that door, so it could only be one of two people. Either Gabriel (Please don’t be Gabriel!) or Crowley. Of course, he was pleased beyond reason when it was proven to be the latter. 

“Crowley!” He greeted cheerfully. 

The other however did not greet him back. 

Smile fading, Aziraphale stepped closer to his demonic counterpart. The other was standing there in the doorway, leaning on the frame for support. His face was pale, and his clothes soaked completely through. 

“My dear you are shivering, what happened? Were you caught in the storm unaware?”

He beckoned the demon inside, but Crowley remained oddly silent and stiff as he hesitantly stepped further into the bookshop, almost seeming to lean away from the angel’s presence. 

“Would you like some wine?”

The other continued to stand there in silence. The angel grew more concerned. 

“Dear? Crowley?”

Crowley finally seemed to hear him, turning towards him. With a quick snap of the demon’s fingers, the black clothes were completely dry, and his glasses also surprisingly vanished. 

Crowley finally met his eyes, the golden glow dulled considerably. 

“Sorry angel, I just… do you mind if I just… I mean, could I…”

Aziraphale felt his heart stutter and his own eyes softened, gentled. He had never seen the other this way before. It was… a tad frightening. 

“Of course, darling, rest here as long as you like. Stay the night if you wish. I am not expecting any checkups from heaven for another several days.”

Crowley still seemed reluctant to move, but slowly he nodded and headed towards the backroom where his self-proclaimed spot was located upon the velvet cushions of the settee.   
Though the other hadn’t agreed to any wine, Aziraphale grabbed a bottle and a couple glasses anyways, pouring one for his counterpart and then himself before sitting in his usual armchair under the warm lamp where his book sat open and waiting. 

He did not pick up the book. 

Instead, Aziraphale found himself strangely drawn to watching his companion. Crowley was never still. If anything, the other was always a ball of endless energy, imagination, and creative ideas. The demon traveled all over the world and was constantly striving to create mischief. Never evil, just a bit of a fun. To see the other lying so still upon his sofa, eyes closed, it was oddly as mesmerizing as it was concerning. 

“Did something happen my dear?” he asked.

The demon did not move, but Aziraphale knew he was awake despite closed eyes.

“If you wish to talk about it, I will listen. If not, that’s fine too. You can go to sleep, Crowley, I will stay here and read and watch over you. I promise my dear. You are safe here.”

If the words soothed his counterpart, he couldn’t tell, but it must have, because Crowley seemed to relax into the cushions a little more and then his breathing evened out. The demon was sound asleep.

Silently, Aziraphale stood and grabbed a nearby blanket. He hesitated only briefly before gently draping it across his friend. 

“Dream of the things you love most, Crowley,” he whispered. 

The words were not a divine blessing. He would never hurt Crowley that way, but Crowley did have sweet dreams that evening, cradled in the knowledge that he was protected in the presence of Aziraphale.


	26. Bandstand, 1862 AD, London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale can't stand the thought of a World without Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I included this scene, because I feel it is important, but the holy water doesn't really have much to do with this particular retelling. The demon strictly wants it for 'insurance'. That does not mean he will ever use it in later chapters.

Aziraphale had come to the reluctant realization that Crowley was perhaps more than just a friend to him. Perhaps the demon could be considered by all rights, his best friend. Or more likely, his only friend. As it stood, Aziraphale was not exactly a popular person in heaven now days. Most still only remember him as the angel who lost the flaming sword of the eastern gate. It didn’t help that the Archangels seemed to personally have it out for him and were often vindictive regarding how they ‘disciplined’ him after his many discorporations and occasional ‘frivolous’ usage of miracles. Often trying to shame him before his peers. 

So yes, the demon is in many ways, the angel’s only true friend.

Perhaps more.

And that frightened him. 

Not because Crowley was a demon, but because he worried that he, Aziraphale, would get the demon killed if he weren’t careful not to show just how much he truly felt for the other. If either side discovered the truth, he couldn’t imagine the ramifications. 

That was why the day Crowley sent a message requesting to meet at St. James Park, he had a bad feeling. It got worse when he drew closer and saw how Crowley was eyeing Aziraphale. Though the dark glasses hid much of his friend’s emotions (and his beautiful eyes), Aziraphale had known the other for nearly six thousand years. You picked up on more than one way to read someone’s emotions than just through their gaze. 

It was in the way the demon was holding himself, almost defensively. In how his lips thinned to a creased line. How he seemed almost defensive with his widespread stance, as though Aziraphale had somehow truly become the enemy he should have been.

How wonderful, Aziraphale thought sarcastically. Crowley was already in a bad mood and he just knew the rest of this conversation would be anything less than ideal. 

“I know we have the arrangement,” Crowley began, “but I have a favor to request of you.”

Aziraphale eyed his friend while trying to act like he wasn’t already a shivering mess of nerves. 

“Oh?”

“I wrote it down so no one can overhear.”

Crowley slipped him a small piece of paper and Aziraphale, reluctantly, took it and began to read. His eyes widened and his hands shook as he turned to the other with disbelief. 

“No.”

“What? Why not?” the demon questioned as though it wasn’t obvious. 

“B-because… this… this is… Crowley… this is far too dangerous! No! I’m not going to give you this… this suicide pill!”

Crowley stared at the other, gob smacked. 

“You think I want this to perform suicide?” he whispered, stunned and more than a little hurt. 

“Well, don’t you?!” Aziraphale yelled back. 

He had seen Crowley’s depressive episodes. Nights when the demon would say hardly a word and would sleep the hours away. Mornings Crowley would just stare at nothing. Years the demon would vanish without scarcely a word, only to show up unexpectedly when Aziraphale was in danger, acting as though Crowley hadn’t been gone ages and ages, leaving the angel to fret and wonder. 

“No!” Crowley shouted, truly angry. “That isn’t what this is about. It’s just insurance. I need this because…”

“And my answer is no!”

“Angel, hear me out, I just want to have…”

“No!” Aziraphale shouted back. “No, Crowley, No!”

He could feel his divine essence burning within himself at the thought of the demon being anywhere near holy water. The very idea… no, no way. He wouldn’t allow it.

“Aziraphale, I’ve helped you out plenty of times. I’m only asking this one thing of you. I just need it for…”

“NO!” Aziraphale shouted over him, cutting his words off for the third time. “No is final, and if you’re going to use those times that I DID NOT request your assistance, then please, don’t help me ever again! I don’t need you! In fact, it might be safer for all of us if we end this fraternizing now.”

The demon looked struck, as though Aziraphale had physically slapped him before the demon’s own anger suddenly made an appearance. 

“Fraternizing?” Crowley whispered coldly. “Is that what you call six millennia of lunch dates, the arrangement, and nights spent together drinking and talking and laughing?”

Aziraphale just stared at him, not saying a word. The angel’s gaze was frosty and guarded. He had locked Crowley out.

“Well I don’t need you either!” the demon shouted back, careful not to allow his true sorrow and hurt and notions of betrayal shine through. “I have plenty of people and plenty of ways to go about granting such a favor! Plenty of fraternizing that I can do elsewhere with better company than you!”

“Then why come to me then?!” The angel shouted at his counterpart, crumbling inside at the turn this conversation had taken, but unable to stop himself from spitting acidic words out like a shield. 

A shield against the very idea that Crowley might be destroyed forever. Gone. Extinguished. Leaving Aziraphale alone. Forever. 

A shield to mask the true feelings he wanted to shout. Feelings of hope that Crowley felt the same way as Aziraphale does. Feelings of joy to be in the other’s presence. Feelings of… of Love. 

“Because I trust you!” The demon shouted. 

“WELL I DON’T TRUST YOU!”

The two stared at each other, wide eyed as their breathing slowed. 

And Aziraphale could only gape at the response he had just spat at the one person he trusted more than anyone in the entire cosmos. The one person he trusted more than he trusted himself. 

“Fine,” Crowley snapped, and turned, walking away.

Aziraphale couldn’t say anything to call him back. He could only let him walk, knowing it was pointless to try and apologize right now. What could he even say? He couldn’t take the words back after they had already been spoken. It was too late. They were there between them now. And even if he wanted to take it all back, he still couldn’t give Crowley what he was asking for. He just… he just couldn’t. He couldn’t be the cause of his friends own self-destruction. 

Little did Aziraphale know that those words alone had nearly caused it, without a single drip of holy water needed.


	27. Oscar Wilde, 1880 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale's DOES NOT think about Crowley when spending time with Oscar. Nope, not at all.

Aziraphale was a big fan of art, books, and of course, poetry. He had numerous favorites, but none compared to the beautiful works of Oscar Wilde. The man was a genius when it came to his writings, and Aziraphale couldn’t decide out of the lot which were his favorites. The man himself was also charmingly pleasant company and Aziraphale adored their conversations.  
It wasn’t often that the angel found a human he truly connected with. William Shakespeare being the last human he had bonded with over literature and the arts.  
William couldn’t hold a candle though to Oscar. And no, it had nothing to do with the man’s beautiful red hair and pale skin eerily similar to a certain demon (a demon he refused to think about). That had not a single thing to do with why Aziraphale found the man dazzling. None at all.

Anyways. Aziraphale quite enjoyed their tea times together. He enjoyed listening to Oscar’s ideas for his upcoming books and poems. He especially enjoyed hearing the man speak about his newest novel, “The Picture of Dorian Gray”. It was absolutely thrilling and brilliant and just utterly fascinating how the man’s mind worked. To come up with immortality but through the eyes of humans who so desperately did not want to recognize the truth of their own mortality… it was beyond genius. 

Perhaps it all started with just a friendly conversation in this human’s presence, but it quickly turned into something more. Aziraphale prided himself on being a ‘ruler stickler’ in his own mind, but in truth, Aziraphale had bent the rules since the day he was ordered (as punishment) to guard over the Earth as Heaven’s Representative. These humans, he didn’t want to just live amongst them, but he wanted to be with them. To learn as they learn. To live as they live. To… to love as they love. 

It was his first and only human romance. It started with conversation, but then it was the little things Oscar would say to him or do for him. It was the gifts the author would procure or write just for him. Aziraphale basked in the attention of this glorious little human, and when the gifts turned to drinks, and the drinks turned to touches, and the touches turned to… more. He didn’t say no.

Aziraphale liked Crowley. He knew he liked Crowley despite knowing he shouldn’t (no, he did NOT feel guilty about how they last parted ways…). They are enemies, no matter how good of friends they may be. 

And so, the angel lied to himself day in and day out that he only liked Crowley a little bit, and maybe only as a friend, good for… for fraternization. And no, Oscar in no way reminded him of Crowley, not even a little bit. It was not the demon he thought about when he kissed Oscar for the first time. And it was certainly not Crowley he thought of when they had sex. Not at all. 

In Aziraphale’s mind, Oscar was one of a kind, and so he continued to lie to himself as he spent time with the man. He stayed around until the man grew elderly and found love in a human partner, And it was only when this delightfully unique human finally passed on, as all mortals do, that the angel allowed himself to recognize that while he had enjoyed their time together, it was never true love.


	28. The Bentley, 1926 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley feels love at first sight.

Kral would be the first to say he does not handle emotions well. Hence, he slept for another few (okay, several) decades after the fight he and Aziraphale had about the holy water. It’s not that he didn’t understand where the angel was coming from. If Aziraphale had asked him for hellfire, well, he would have probably been just as upset. But it was the fact the other hadn’t even taken the time to listen to his reasonings and had basically called him a suicidal maniac. 

Honestly, it stung. After all the years that they had worked together, watched out for one another, and became friends, Crowley had thought the angel knew him better than that. And then to say he didn’t trust the demon on top of it all. 

So yes, he slept. 

It was a marvelous thing, sleep. It made all the pain, all the fear, and all the emotions fade away just like it had during that awful fourteenth century when he finally allowed himself to rest after years of healing the dead and dying. 

At least until he woke, and it all came pouring back in. Every death, every hurt, every horror.

What woke him this time exactly, Kral couldn’t be certain, but suddenly he just knew within his very being that Aziraphale was in trouble. That the angel needed him or would be needing him soon. 

And so, he went to where the other was and he watched and analyzed the angel and those he was working with. He used the information he had gathered from spying on the angel and the various war parties and he made another new name for himself behind the scenes. He wanted to become a shield for the angel. Someone who the axis powers would think twice about crossing. Someone who could be there should his angel fall upon difficult times.

Things weren’t always so simple, but he did the best he could. It didn’t matter that the angel thought of him as a simple associate. He loved Aziraphale and whatever happened, he would try and protect him. 

And so, he began working behind the scenes in England with MI5. He made a name for himself, Anthony J. Crowley, and he bought a flat in Mayfair, not far from the angel’s bookshop, and then lastly, he bought a car. 

It was love at first sight for Crowley, truly. The year is 1926 and sitting before his eyes, new, and untouched, was the most beautiful car he had ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes upon. A slick ride, as black as the night sky, and his for the taking. 

Well, mostly. 

Another buyer had been about to purchase her, but that was easily solved with a quick snap of the fingers, and there she was, all Crowley’s. 

“Oh, my sweet baby,” he cooed to the car, “Daddy’s here. It’s okay now my beautiful girl.”

The car, though not actually living, had been with Crowley for a near twenty-four hours, and because the demon couldn’t drive and Crowley also believed that the car was able to understand his words and therefore drive itself, the car took on a form of sentience. The car responded to its owner’s love with a love of its own, often communicating through its song choices (see: Queen) and the two were merrily on their way with none the wiser as both car and demon drove off into the sunset, happily ever after.


	29. World War 2, The Church, 1941 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley to the rescue. Aziraphale loves Crowley. And finally says he is sorry.

Aziraphale has a habit of getting into trouble, and Crowley, to the angel’s amazement, has a habit of being at the right place at the right time to get him out of trouble. This time was not so different. The angel had decided to work a double cross with some Nazi spies, and it had backfired on him. 

Of course, the angel had been double crossed. Of course, the angel did not have a backup plan for said double cross. 

Exasperated, Crowley, who had gotten word through his human underground sources that a deal was going down in central London, had hurried to the church to bail the angel out of whatever trouble he had gotten himself into, as he expected he soon would. He just hadn’t quite expected said trouble to take place in a church of all places.

Still, the demon refused to let sleeping dogs (or snakes) lie, so he took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold of the church.

Now to be clear, Demons are beings made up of hellfire, brimstone, sulfur, and demonic energy. Crowley is no different. He is a demon through and through. Unlike other demons though, he is of a higher quality, so to speak (add a touch of grace). 

You see, if any old demon were to try and walk into a church, they would burn up within the first one or two steps. Possibly permanently destroyed, depending upon the volume of holiness found within the sacred ground. Higher demons might make it for a few minutes if lucky. Kral and probably Lucifer, and maybe Beelzebub but who knows, are most likely the only three demons powerful enough to last any longer than that. 

In plain words, the act of walking upon sacred ground is, quite simply, Hell for demonic beings. It burns at the very essence of the demon, not just their outer corporation, but their true selves. And so now you know that as Crowley took a breath and stepped into the church where his angel was being betrayed by his own spy, he was not at all walking upon hot sands with bare feet. It was more like walking through an active boiler and praying your feet don’t melt completely before your able to step back out of the boiler and onto neutral ground again. Not unlike molten lava for a human. 

It hurt, to say the least. 

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” the demon had jumped around upon entering the church, making a spectacle (half on purpose) of himself. He eyed the font of holy water as he passed but did not allow himself to become distracted. Plenty of time for that later.

“Crowley?!” the angel had gasped upon seeing the other, for more than one reason. Blue eyes were wide under white-gold halo hair. The very sight of his angel after decades of painful self-incited estrangement was as satisfying as the deepest sleep. Better even.

“Heya angel,” he had smirked as he danced across the floor towards the trio of Nazi spies and his beautiful angel, trying not to keep his feet resting against the ground for longer than a few seconds if necessary. He probably looked like an idiot, but he honestly couldn’t say he cared at that moment. 

“Well, well, Anthony J. Crowley,” the spy sneered, “your reputation proceeds you.”

“Anthony?” the Angel stared at him, bewildered and a touch amused.

“What?” Crowley hissed through his pain, “don’t like it?”

It was not unlike every other alias he had used in the past thousand some years.

“No, no. I didn’t say that,” the angel hurried to sooth him. “It will just take some getting used to. But what’s the J stand for?”

Crowley paled, flashes of plague and endless death bled through his mind. 

“Just a J really,” he shrugged, forcing the memories away. 

He wasn’t about to tell the angel the truth. 

The truth being that it was the letter of what his true name had been up in heaven, once upon a time. 

The truth that it was also the letter he had chosen for a name he used amongst the victims of the plague. Jaalam, a name meaning hidden. 

A letter to always remind Crowley that he wasn’t just a demon. That he had good inside of him. That he might, one day, be worthy of forgiveness for his doubts against Her, whom he still loves and believes in.

“No more talking! The books; give them to us now!” the spies demanded.

“Ah, ah, see, about that…” Crowley interrupted them with a wag of his finger, “I really think now is not a good time for this dispute. Actually, we would all be smart to leave the premises.”

“And why is that?” the Nazi female questioned smugly. “Scared Mr. Anthony? I expected more from you.”

“Me?” he snorted, “No, but you should be,” Kral grinned, ignoring the guns that raised a bit higher when he stepped slightly closer to his angel. “You see in just, oh, thirty seconds maybe, a bomb is going to drop on this exact location.”

“A bomb?!” Aziraphale gasped. 

Kral didn’t take his eyes off the three humans. 

“Yup and it might take a real miracle to keep us all from dying.”

“A miracle,” the angel sounded exasperated, and Crowley chuckled, pleased by his reaction. 

“Lies,” the Nazi shouted, “now, hand us the books before I…”

The sound of an alarm alerting the city that bomber planes were overhead, went off around them. Kral grinned, feet still dancing to and fro, as just above the church a hundred feet up, the whistling sound of a bomb being dropped could be heard overhead.

The Nazi’s eyes widened, and they turned to run, but it was already too late to escape their fates now. The three humans had outstayed their welcome. 

To Crowley’s surprise, Aziraphale grabbed the demon and tucked him under himself as the bomb hit the church, obliterating the space around them completely.

With deep breaths, the two opened their closed eyes and peered up at the night sky as the church smoldered, still partially on fire. 

Crowley felt the loss of the angel’s warmth as Aziraphale drew back, peering around in surprise. 

“Thanks for the save, angel,” Crowley huffed a relieved sigh, removing his sunglasses to clean them of dust. 

Aziraphale turned to the demon, about to speak, when his eyes widened comically. “THE BOOKS! I forgot the books, they…”

“Oh,” Crowley stepped forward, trying not to show the horrid amount of pain he was in as he reached into the rubble and drew out a familiar leather bag, still in perfect condition.   
Smiling, he handed it to the dumbfounded angel who stared at him with a dropped jaw. 

“A little demonic miracle of my own,” Crowley winked, before turning to walk back towards the car. 

Aziraphale could only stare after the demon in stunned silence, before a small, soft, and secretive little smile spread across his lips. 

“Care for a lift?” the demon called from afar.

“I would be delighted, my dear,” Aziraphale beamed. 

And Crowley turned to reply to that, spinning on his heels as he normally would, only to cry out when his legs gave out from under him.

“CROWLEY!!” Aziraphale shouted, hurrying to his side. His hands hovered over the demon, uncertain where it was safe to touch, if anywhere at all. “My dear, what…”

“C-Consecrated ground and I don’t really get along,” Crowley admitted, hissing as his feet continued to burn despite the holiness having dissipated when the bomb went off. 

“Oh, my dear boy, hang on now,” Aziraphale snapped his fingers and both angel and demon were suddenly in the back room of the bookshop. 

“Aziraphale, you didn’t need to…” Crowley began to rebuke him. 

“Nonsense,” the angel cut him off as he all but carried Crowley over to the couch, gently setting the shockingly light demon upon its velvety cushions. 

Crowley relaxed into the familiar space. He and Aziraphale had spent many nights drinking here when the angel had first opened the shop. It was home, not that he would ever admit it to the angel. It was comfortable and safe. And he was just so tired…

“Don’t sleep yet, Crowley,” Aziraphale nudged him awake when the demon nearly drifted off, “I need to see the damage before you go into one of your ‘naps’.”

Crowley groaned, knowing this was not going to be fun, but Aziraphale was extremely gentle as he raised the other’s feet onto his lap. With another snap of his fingers… (Careful Angel, not too many frivolous miracles) … the shoes and socks were gone, leaving the demon’s raw burns open for scrutiny. 

Aziraphale sucked in a breath when he took in his friend’s feet. 

It was worse than he had imagined, and unfortunately, he knew he couldn’t easily heal injures caused by ethereal objects. The most he could do is take the edge off.   
“We will have to do this the human way,” Aziraphale sighed as he quickly grabbed a swab and some alcohol. 

He glanced up at the demon who stared back at him. To Aziraphale’s surprise, the glasses had been removed and, in their place, two beautiful golden-amber snake eyes caught his own, the pain he was in now easily visible.

“This will hurt,” he warned him softly. 

Crowley just took a deep breath and closed his eyes, preparing himself.

“I can take it. Go ahead, Angel.”

Aziraphale nodded and held the demon’s left foot to his chest. With only slight hesitation, the angel began the process of cleaning out the burns. 

Crowley jerked at the pain of cloth dotting against raw skin, but the angel held on tight. Not a single sound escaped the demon’s lips, despite the way his body quivered. 

Concerned, the angel looked up and instantly regretted it. Crowley’s face was red, his teeth barred, and his clawed fingers were sinking into the cushions of the couch as the other struggled to contain his pain from being made known.

“Crowley, darling,” Aziraphale spoke before even thinking his words through, “you don’t have to hide the pain. It’s okay. Let it out. It’s only me here.”

Crowley however just shook his head. The angel tried not to show how much that refusal bothered him as he turned his attention back to the blackened soles. Once the first foot was done, he started quickly on the second. Again, the demon did not make a single sound, and barely even jerked when the pain began. Hurrying, but making certain to do a good and gentle job, the angel finally finished the cleaning. 

He was a bit relieved when he looked up and saw that the other had lost consciousness. It would make attempting to treat his feet that much easier if he knew the poor boy wasn’t in anguish the entire time. And really, his feet were very bad off. Just looking at them made Aziraphale want to cry. They were almost melted in some places down to the bone, but with the cleaning and a touch of healing to at least dim the pain and make certain the wounds stay clean, Aziraphale knew they would heal given time.

With careful and silent movements, the angel bound each foot in bandages before picking his friend’s feet up and angling them onto the couch where he gently placed them. Then he quickly grabbed a nearby tartan blanket and laid it over the slumbering demon. 

Before he could stop himself, the angel pushed back sweaty crimson locks from the demon’s forehead and leaned down to kiss the smooth, pale skin that had been revealed underneath. 

“Good night my dear,” Aziraphale whispered shakily, “and… I’m so, so sorry.”

And the demon stayed sleeping all night. 

When the angel woke up from his own small nap several hours later, having accidentally fallen asleep in his reading chair (he wouldn’t admit having Crowley around relaxed him), he wasn’t overly surprised to see the demon was already gone, but sitting in Crowley’s usual place upon a folded up tartan blanket was a single, beautiful, pink rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note* Roses can mean ‘I love you’, but they can also express ‘Gratitude’.


	30. Holy Water Heist, 1963 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley doesn't understand Aziraphale. Aziraphale is bad at expressing himself.

The two, despite leaving on good terms that day at the church, were rarely in contact with one another between that time and the next twenty years. The war kept them both busy for a while and then once peace had come back into the various nations, Crowley made plans for a quick little church heist to obtain some holy water. 

It was one of the benefits about having saved his angel and nearly charbroiled his feet. He had seen an entire fount of holy water sitting unguarded out in the open and it was all his for the taking if he could get some help. Obviously, he couldn’t touch the stuff himself without some serious repercussions, hence a heist made up of human crooks might be just what he needed. At least that was the plan until Crowley peered outside his apartment window and noticed a familiar individual leaning against the side of his Bentley. 

“Angel,” he greeted curiously, as he stepped outside his apartment building. 

The angel stiffened at his approach, eyes flickering every which way but at the demon. 

“Crowley,” he greeted back a tad flatly.

“Are you okay? What’s up?” the demon questioned, concerned. 

“Yes, no, I mean… look, I hear things Crowley, and I heard about a little heist your planning for a specific item in a church.”

“Aziraphale…”

“Here.”

Crowley stared at the angel and then at the tartan thermos being handed to him. Slowly he took it, puzzled, as he looked back up at his friend.

“I don’t…”

“It’s too dangerous Crowley, to go back into a church,” the angel spoke over him, “that’s why I am giving you this.”

“Is… is this…”

“The holiest,” Aziraphale nodded, eyes wide with his fear.

Crowley felt his heart ache. 

“Aziraphale… can I … can I thank you?”

“Best not,” the angel shook his head.

“I… would you like to come inside? I have wine…”

“No, thank you,” the angel frowned, “I really should be going.”

“How about a ride?” Crowley offered instead.

Aziraphale stared at the other. 

“You go too fast for me, Crowley,” he told the demon, before snapping his fingers and zapping away.

The demon could only stand there holding the tartan container and trying to ignore the sound of his own heart breaking for what had to be the thousandth time.  
He never considered the idea that the angel had finally just admitted to his own feelings for the demon. And that said angel was just as heartbroken over his own words as Crowley was.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley misses the stars. His plants try to comfort him. 
> 
> Honestly, I just wanted to add a chapter about his plants. They are so cute!

Kral didn’t usually drink alone, but that day in 1966 when Neil Armstrong touched down on the moon, it called for a celebration. He would have invited Aziraphale to celebrate with him, but the angel was on a heavenly mission at the time and so Kral was alone, sitting within his flat in Mayfair, and watching the humans expand their creative horizons beyond Earth and up into space. 

“D’ ya s’ tht,” he slurred at his plants which he had dragged into the living room to act as ‘company’. 

They shivered as the demon’s attention turned on them. Part of their shivers were from fear (because yeah, he has some anger management issues), but Kral knew he and his plants were… well, bonded might not be the right term for what they were, but the demon had always had a certain affiliation for nature. Even as an angel, being one of its original creators, plants just… responded to him more deeply than any animals or humans ever did. Apart from children and snakes, obviously. 

“Humn’s ‘re rlly ssssomthing,” he hissed with a drunken cackle, “n’xt thyll be g’n far b’ynd the lmts of the g’lxy. Rlly ssssomthing.”

His hissed drunken laughter faded until the laughter turned to sobs, tears streaming down his cheeks. Perhaps no one would understand the emotions of a demon who had fallen for love. Perhaps not even he himself understood why he felt the way he does for the humans, for earth, for his fellow demons, and for his angel. He just knowns that since before he fell, who he had been and who he became had always adored the inquisitive, aspiring nature of the humans. An Archangel who believed in choice, in purpose, in love, mercy, and in grace. An Archangel and now a Prince of Hell, who believes in Her.

Maybe that’s what Mother always wanted from her creation to begin with? For them, all of them, to have free will, to choose life, to live adoring the beauty of her Earth and the surrounding solar systems. 

For the humans She so loved to look up at the stars, to travel beyond their horizons, and to ask themselves, what else is out there? And how did it all come to be? For the demons she had loved to ask themselves why did I fall? And how can I better myself? How can I redeem my wrongs? For the angels who remained in heaven to look upon the fallen and think, what could I do to show love to the sinful? For them to look at the humans and find inspiration for that love and inspiration on how to forgive.

“Good sssshow, Mother,” he hisses as he forcefully sobers himself, “Good show. Just may have overestimated us, aye?” 

He chokes back another sob.

“I’m sssssorry, that we… that I… always seem to fail you. I… I never meant to Fall,” he whispers the words in the quiet, “but maybe… maybe I was always fated too.”

He snorts.

“Ain’t that a riot?” he sniffles before exhaling heavily. “The Archangel of fucking Fate, not able to know his own.”

The light caress of a plant startles him, before he sighs and lays back, allowing the plants he had raised for the past hundred or more years to comfort their ‘tormentor’. If the plants could scoff they probably would have at the thought that he was merely their ‘punisher’, because despite his bad attitude and threats, he had never once harmed a single plant (even if he made them think he had). He loved them too much for that, and secretly, they loved him just as much. 

“I’m okay,” he whispers into the quiet of his apartment, his eyes closing as the light caress continues to carefully tickle his neck and face. “I’m okay.”


	32. The Beginning of the End, 2008 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Anti-Christ arrives. Crowley begins to plan.

Kral didn’t know what he expected when Lucifer requested his return to Hell at the beginning of the new year. He imagined it would be about a mission, but he certainly hadn’t been expecting this. 

“You have got to be kidding,” he spat, before even realizing he had done it. 

Neither Beelzebub nor Lucifer looked at all shocked by his reaction. 

“It wasn’t like I did it on purpose,” Lucifer scowled at the floor when Kral turned to him with a look that clearly said, ‘you’re an idiot’. 

“Oh, sssso you jussssst happened to make a baby!” Kral shouted.

“Keep your voize down Zerpent!” Beelzebub glared. “We don’t want all of Hell to know. Yet.”

“Yet? So your going to jusssst go through with thissss then?” Kral spat. “The anti-christ!”

“Yes!” Lucifer spat back, eyes burning. “You may be my Prince, but do not forget your place, Kral. This is my son and though his timing wasn’t what I intended it to be, he is here and here he shall stay.”

Kral frowned but knew better than to rile the other more than necessary, but that didn’t mean he was going to back down completely. 

“Well excuse me for freaking out!” he shot back, “what am I ssssupossssed to do with …” he gestured frantically at the child, “with IT?”

“Raize it, obviouzzzly,” Beelzebub deadpanned. 

Kral stared at the other Prince before turning to Lucifer with a ‘what the hell’ expression. 

Lucifer sighed.

“Beeelzebub is right. The kid was not a part of my personal plan, as I stated before, but seeing as how it is here, my son needs to be raised according to hell’s standards. You have thus been chosen.”

“Heaven will zend their own to dizrupt thiz plan,” Beelzebub argued, “what if they take the brat for themzelvezz?”

“They won’t do that though, will they.” Lucifer turned to Kral with cold eyes. “because Kral here, will be by his side the entire time until he hits his eleventh birthday and awakens.”

Kral groaned dramatically. He was the only one besides Beelzebub who get away with acting like this after receiving a mission from Lucifer personally. Though they aren’t close anymore, it is one of the perks of being ‘the brother’ of the King of Hell. 

“I can’t raisssse it mysssself,” he spat, “Heaven will only realize the truth fasssster that way. He should be hidden ssssomewhere that neither Hell nor Heaven can reach eassssily.”

“Such as?” Lucifer prompted.

“Amongsssst the humansssss, obviousssssly,” Kral hissed out. 

Lucifer looked less than impressed with that idea, but Beelzebub hummed. 

“Maybe thatzzz not zzuch a bad idea, my Lord,” they nodded.

“Explain.”

“Well, if the child izz hidden on the Earth amongzzzt the humanzz, then yezz Kral izz right, Heaven may have a harder time tracking him down. And maybe being with the humanzz will cauzze him to despizze them more?”

“I could ensssssure that,” Kral nodded, though he honestly though Beelzebub had that backwards. “sssstill watch over him, jussst from afar.”

“Yes, perhaps not such a bad idea,” Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “Fine. Do as you request, serpent. Take my son to the nunnery and switch it out for one of the human children. However, I expect you to stay by his side and teach him our hellish ways. Not just babysitting from afar. I want you more hands on.”

“Yesssss, Lord,” Kral mock bowed.

Lucifer’s eyes glowed red again, but he sighed. After thousands upon thousands of years with the Serpent, he was far to use to his ‘brothers’ mocking actions to be bothered by them much anymore.

“I expect yearly updates,” he ordered Kral, “other than that, no one will bother you with anymore missions or check ins until it comes closer to time for his powers to awaken. I do not want heaven laying a hand on my son.”

Both Beelzebub and Kral gave a slight bow as they left the room. 

Lucifer groaned. He needed a vacation.

~~

Kral walked up the front steps of the nunnery and sighed, staring down at the child in the basket by his side. The brat was awake and staring up at the demon as though he could understand the other’s mixed feelings. 

“Don’t give me that look, hellspawn, I just… I’m sorry, but its either this or I destroy you here and now. Personally, I would rather not, though the latter would definitely be simpler.”

The baby just continued to stare, and Crowley just sighed again. Why did he have to be made with an intense fondness for children? Just why God. It would be so much simpler if Kral were as much of a vile, cold-hearted bastard as the rest of the demons were down in Hell. It was hard sometimes to hide the emotions he knew were not usual for a fallen to possess. It was even harder to try and hide those emotions from his angel. Aziraphale probably didn’t even feel the same anyways. Kral just… he could dream, right?  
Pushing those thoughts away, the Prince of Hell raised his hand and knocked on the door. 

With a creak, the old wooden door opened, and before him stood one of the satanic nuns of this convent. Her dark eyes took him and the child in for a moment in silence before she bowed reverently. 

“Welcome, Master Kral, is this…” she eyed the baby.

“Indeed,” Kral nodded, “the anti-christ.”

She gasped, her hands fluttering. “How truly magnificent to be in his presence,” she spoke in awe.

Crowley shivered, but tried not to show how repulsed he was by her words. Did this human even realize this baby was supposed to end the world? 

“Right, well, here’s the kid. Switch him out for a human one and give the human child to an orphanage.”

“O-Of course. Are you not going to come in?”

“Only for a moment. Do you mind?

“Y-Yes certainly,” she opened the door wider for him and he shadowed her as they walked the halls of the convent. 

“He will be given to the American Ambassador of England and his wife, the Dowling’s. A position that should give him some power,” explained the nun as she gently rocked the babe until they reached the back room. 

Only after he had watched her switch the child out for the Dowling boy, did he start back towards his car. 

“Wonderful job that,” Kral snarked as he walked, “I’ll be on my way.”

The nun shouted after him, but the demon was already out the door. He climbed back into his car and dialed the number for his angel.

“Aziraphale? It’s Crowley. I think you and I have something to discuss.”

~~

Aziraphale was not surprised by what Crowley had to tell him. Talk of the Armageddon had been circling for some time amongst both the denizens of heaven and hell. Both sides (most of them anyways) wanted a war. Despite Lucifer not having intended the child’s conception necessarily at that moment in time, it was obvious the King of Hell wasn’t truly horrified by the prospect. Both sides had grown tired of the same old thing, and both sides were looking for a little action. The birth of an anti-christ was the perfect fuse to ignite what both sides had regarded as ‘the Beginning of the End’. 

“So, he’s here then, truly?” Aziraphale spoke, eyes locked upon the red liquid being gently swirled within his wine glass. 

“That is what I said on the phone, yes,” Crowley agreed, his lean form sinking effortlessly into the velvet cushions where he had dropped and splayed out with a tired groan upon arriving. “I delivered him. Well, not delivered, delivered him. You know what I mean.”

Aziraphale didn’t even smile at the demon’s lame attempt at a joke. His expression was serious and calculating. 

“I was told to raise him,” Crowley finally whispered. 

That did catch the angel’s attention. “You?”

“I… yeah,” Crowley knew he had never told Aziraphale what his true rank was in Hell or what his relationship with Lucifer was. And he hoped he never would have to. The angel probably would be less likely to work with him if he knew he was literally going to be side by side with the second in command of all of Hell and the devil’s own brother. 

Despite Beelzebub being Lucifer’s official right hand, Kral was much more powerful and his blood relation (Archangels were created separate from other angels), therefore, was of a higher rank than the other Prince. It was not something he went around boasting about and not something many demons knew. 

“Maybe because I carried out the apple job so well in Eden, they figured they could trust me with a similarly crucial task such as this one,” Kral lied. It sat heavily upon Crowley’s conscious. 

Aziraphale nodded, taking his word as truth. 

“And you want me to come with you?”

“Well, you are my antagonist, and Hell already believes Heaven will send someone to infiltrate and target the boy. If you convince heaven you can watch his progression and manipulate the child, perhaps they won’t send anyone else.”

“And that is what you will be doing? Manipulating the child?”

“I will be raising him to be the perfect little hellspawn he was born to be,” Crowley agreed half-heartedly, “and you will teach him to be a righteous man.”

“Neutrality,” Aziraphale realized, wide eyed, “you think between the two of us he can be raised to be neutral and make his own choices?”

“Yes,” Crowley smiled, pleased the angel got it. “That is exactly what I was thinking.”

Aziraphale was amazed by the serpent. It was a brilliant plan, though not necessarily proven to succeed. “It may not work,” he felt he should caution. 

“Or it may work and if we try nothing, it certainly won’t work.”

Aziraphale sighed. “I suppose you have a point.”

“I suppose I do,” Crowley said cheekily.

The angel rolled his eyes with mock exasperation. 

“Very well,” he smiled. “Here’s to raising the anti-christ to not destroy the world.”

Aziraphale raised his glass.

Crowley chuckled and tapped his own glass against the angels.

“To raising the anti-christ.”


	33. Raising Hell, 2009 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything changes. Everything.

Heaven, it appears, cared more about the anti-christ than even Hell did. While Lucifer hadn’t particularly planned for his appearance at that exact time, it wasn’t something the devil was necessarily against. It would have happened eventually, just no one knew when. And now it was here. It was time. The Beginning of the End. And while Hell accepted it and began to get excited about it, Heaven was beside themselves with delight. Finally, a reason to destroy demons. Finally, a reason to justify their hate. It was the perfect excuse to start a war with those they considered lesser. It was the perfect excuse to kill those who are their mirror image. 

The Archangel Messenger of God was happy about the War, Aziraphale realized as he sat in the meeting hall, listening, and watching the other angels around him. All the Archangels seemed happy about it, or if they weren’t exactly happy, they seemed indifferent. Uncaring. As though it was just another event that would ineffably come to pass.  
And Aziraphale was horrified. Had Heaven truly come so far? That the angels themselves wanted Earth destroyed just to prove themselves right in thinking that demons were irrefutably evil and needed to be destroyed once and for all. 

The Picture of Dorian Gray indeed, Aziraphale thought with frustration, as Gabriel rambled on excitedly about the child who would bring about destruction. Unable to see their own wickedness because they never took time to look at the full picture. To truly see themselves and the ugliness of their inner essence as it was tainted by the very sin they claimed to be fighting. 

He was never so happy to go back to Earth once he had finished reporting in and telling them that he had found the anti-christ child. To his relief, they had all but ordered him to watch over the child and ensure his survival. 

Oh, Aziraphale would do more than that, he thought to himself as he marched through the front doors of the bookshop, irate. If Crowley is supposed to raise the child and wanted Aziraphale by his side to do it, then so be it, Aziraphale wouldn’t leave until the day that child grew up and said no to heaven and to hell. He would work with Crowley, and together, they would help the anti-christ learn to love humanity. 

~~

“Are you sure angel?” Crowley asked later that evening, golden eyes oh so soft in the fire light. It took everything in the angel not to get lost in those eyes.  
“This isn’t a temporary thing, Aziraphale. If you do this, we can’t back out. We will undoubtedly be working on our own side, together. A side against the will of Hell. Against the will of… of Heaven.”

“Our side,” Aziraphale whispered the words. “I quite like the sound of that, dear boy.”

Crowley blushed, cleared his throat, and nodded. He was exhausted just thinking about what all needed to happen before the day of Armageddon. And now Aziraphale added in… 

“Then we need disguises,” he spoke out loud. “Heaven and Hell are both aware we will be on a long-term mission. There won’t be any check ins for me. Not until he is older. We will be free, if only for a few years.”

“Free…” the angel repeated, frowning. “Free to hide and work in the shadows you mean.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley reached out, his touch warm, despite the coolness of his skin. “Angel… we don’t have to hide. We just need to change up the rules of our arrangement.”

The angel was silent, and Crowley was uncertain that his touch was welcome, but then a sigh, and Aziraphale reached up and gently held the hand that was on his arm in his own.

“Okay Crowley,” the angel asked him, his gaze intense. “what’s your plan?” 

Crowley smiled.

“I’ve already looked into the Dowling’s estate. They are currently hiring for two positions right now. The first is that of a nanny.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow teasingly. “That seems oddly well timed.”

“I’m not going to question it,” Crowley surged on, ignoring the huff of laughter from the angel. “The second is that of a gardener.”

“And I assume you will be the gardener?”

Crowley blinked.

“No, I’ll be the nanny.”

Aziraphale blinked. 

“But you love plants.”

Crowley startled then, his mouth agape. “How did you…”

“Oh, dear boy, I’ve known you for six thousand years. It was obvious.”

“Whatever,” Crowley shoved the thought (and the rising blush) away, lest he lose his nerve. “Lucifer specifically told me that I was to raise him. I think it would go over the best if I told Hell I was going to be his nanny.”

“Well,” Aziraphale smiled gently, “You do love children quite a lot too.”

Crowley stammered. “R-Right, so that w-would make you the gardener.”

“Hmm, well I don’t know much about plants, but I assume I can rely on you for some assistance?”

“Of course,” Crowley smiled.

Aziraphale smiled back.

The setting was dim, with the fireplace being the only true source of light in the room, but warm. And Aziraphale felt he could get lost in the beautiful glow the flames put off that encircled Crowley’s frame, gleaming off the picturesque red hair and shimmering yellow-amber eyes. Eyes that were nearly golden as they stared back at him, revealed at long last; the sunglasses left lay. 

Clearing his throat (and his unhelpful reflections), Aziraphale placed his wine glass down on the side table.

“So, I assume we need disguises then, as you said.”

“Just in case anyone comes wandering around from either side, it might be best,” agreed Crowley, “but Hell said I would be unbothered until the child came of age. It’s more heaven we will need to watch out for.”

“That does make things a touch easier,” Aziraphale admitted.

“Yeah a bit,” Crowley agreed. “I think I’m going to go in my female form. Most humans are more willing to trust a woman with their children than a man.”

“It’s been thousands of years since I last saw that form,” Aziraphale hummed, “why do you never use it?”

Crowley hesitated and Aziraphale saw a flash of pain cross the demon’s face before it vanished.

“I’m sorry,” the angel apologized hurriedly, “you don’t have to tell me.”

“No, No, it… it’s silly I guess.”

Aziraphale was silent, waiting. He wouldn’t push, but he also wouldn’t stop his friend if the other wished to explain.

“I…” the demon hesitated. “have you ever loved a human, Angel?”

Aziraphale blinked.

“Well, I… you mean have I… have I made an Effort for one?”

Crowley snorted. “Your so cute angel.”

Aziraphale tried not to combust on the spot. 

“I mean,” Crowley reiterated, “have you ever… well, ‘loved’, a human. You know, been in a relationship with one?”

Aziraphale was silent for a moment. 

“Once,” he nodded, “Well, twice I guess, but mostly just the once. I… the first time I met a human who interested me like… like that, was in Egypt, but it was only fleeting. I suppose Shakespeare was a fleeting interest as well, but it never went anywhere. The one I did make a bit of an Effort for,” the angel blushed, shifting uncomfortably as he spoke, “was… well… you may not remember him, but Oscar Wilde.”

“Oh, the author poet dude,” Crowley nodded, taking another quick mouthful of wine, “yeah I kind of remember. I never met him myself, but I remember you talking about him. You uh, you went all the way then?”

“With him, yes,” Aziraphale admitted sheepishly. “Is this… I mean to say, did you have such a relationship? While in your female form, I take it?”

Crowley looked away from the angel and into the flickering flames of the fireplace. 

“Once, yeah. I… I was lonely and frightened. It was not too long after… after my temptation with King David.”

“Oh,” The angel breathed, his heart aching.

“My dear boy, I… I never did say sorry about that incident. I…”

“Forget it Aziraphale,” the demon waved him off, “it was a long time ago and it was partially my own fault anyways.”

The angel wanted to argue, but Crowley continued with his story.

“Anyways, I went to Greece and while there, I met a young boy and we became fast friends. He grew up and… then we became more. It was a long time ago, angel. My point is, I haven’t taken that form since then, with anyone but… but him.”

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale smiled kindly, “you don’t have to take it now if you don’t wish to. We can make it work with your current form.”

Crowley smiled back just as gently. “No, it’s time I let the past go.”

“And this… mysterious fellow, could I… I mean to say, did I know him?”

Crowley blushed beautifully. “P-Probably. Alexander was his name.”

The angel’s eyes widened.

“Alexander the Great, as he is known now,” the demon admitted. 

The angel breathed out slowly. “Alexander the Great… you were the lover of THAT Alexander.”

Crowley blushed harder and the angel felt himself awe struck by this demon. 

“To me he was just… he was like Oscar Wilde probably was for you,” Crowley admitted with a shrug, “an amazing, beautiful human being. Unique, special... perhaps more so than any other I've ever known.”

Aziraphale stared into Crowley’s eyes, entranced by the warmth, and love he could see within their depths. Unconsciously, they both leaned forward towards each other, eyes locked, hands reaching…

“I… uh, yes, well…” Aziraphale abruptly pulled back.

Crowley tried not to let himself feel rejected.

“I will think about how to disguise myself then as a gardener. Do we need a backstory?” the angel questioned. 

Crowley swirled the wine in his glass and took a deep breath, trying to rein back in his emotions. This was the moment. It was now or never. Be brave Kral, be brave.

“Aziraphale, I think I have the perfect backstory, but it may make you a tad… uncomfortable.”

The angel was silent as he waited for more.

“The gardener has a field house in the back where he will live in privacy from the rest of the household. To discuss things more easily with one another as the years progress and the boy grows older, I thought it might be best to… to say we are married.”

The angel went as stiff as stone. “Married?”

“Yes.”

“To you.”

“Yeah.”

“Me, marry you?”

“Yes, Aziraphale,” Crowley answered, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice. 

He wanted to snap at the angel for making such a big deal out of it, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything more or risk exposing himself. He wanted this so badly, but… maybe Aziraphale didn’t. 

“It would just be a cover,” the demon continued, trying to soothe over any mistakes he had just made by outing himself. “We… we don’t have to do or act in any sort of way except when we are out in the public eye. I just thought it might give us a better backstory, might make the family feel better about hiring us around the same time, and would allow us easier access to one another without making anyone suspicious.”

The angel stayed sitting and silent. His eyes locked on the glass of wine in his hand, unblinking. 

Crowley wanted so desperately to lean across the coffee table and take the angels hand into his own. He wanted so desperately to touch and to comfort, but he couldn’t do any of that. In fact, he may have already ruined what little they did have.

“You know what,” Crowley stood up, suddenly unable to take the silence as he grabbed his sunglasses and jacket. “I’m going to give you time to think about this. I’ll come back in a couple days and we can discuss it further if you want.”

Aziraphale didn’t say a word and neither did he look up.

Kral wanted to scream and rage at the pain that tore threw him due the angel’s continued silence. Was this truly such a horrible thing to consider? That Kral might love Aziraphale. He should have known better.

“Bye Angel,” Crowley whispered, choked, and hurried out the door of the bookshop without looking back. 

~~

Aziraphale sat there, his mind racing. He hadn’t even realized Crowley was talking to him or that he was suddenly leaving. His entire being was centered on the idea that they could be married. That Aziraphale could marry Crowley. Of course, it was to be a cover, but the very idea… It was all he had ever wanted. But while Hell may not check in during the next decade, heaven still might. Would it be a risk worth taking? A decade is not very long, even if Armageddon is looming. It would be unlikely Gabriel would come very often during that time. Could it be done? Could this really happen? 

If it did, Aziraphale knew that he wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings for the demon any longer. That if they ‘married’ even under the disguise of a cover, that Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to keep himself detached. Crowley didn’t know what he was asking by suggesting such a thing. Did the demon even realize that Aziraphale knew of his love, and that Aziraphale loved him return? Probably not.

Aziraphale finally was able to pull himself free of those thoughts, only to realize several hours had passed and Crowley was gone. Frowning, the angel set the glass down and went to find his shop’s phone. 

He hesitated for a moment. Was this the right choice? He knew what it was he wanted. He knew what it was he felt. That day in 1941 when Crowley saved his books, it had been the ultimate ‘Ah-ha’ moment, his own feelings for the other suddenly understood. He just knew when Crowley without any ulterior motive besides what could only be love, had saved his books without preamble, that he was in trouble. That he loved a demon of all creatures. And he was happy about it. Ecstatic even.

Aziraphale knew what he ‘should’ do by heavenly standards, but by his own… well, that was an entirely different set of standards. This time, he would do what he ‘wanted’ to do. Consequences be damned, the end of the world was around the corner and Aziraphale refused to waste what little time they may have left. Crowley was always reaching out to him. This time, the angel would reach back.

Dialing that old familiar number, he waited patiently for the demon to pick up. It was all he could do not to dance around, shouting his love now that he had decided to act on it.

“Hmm… Azzzziraphale?” came the sleepy reply. 

Poor boy was no doubt already in bed for the night.

“Sorry I called you so early, dearest,” he started off, a bit apologetically, “I… could you come by the shop when you can? I think we should talk about this cover story again.”  
The silence was deafening. 

“Ngk…Okay. I’ll be by soon.”

The phone clicked as Crowley hung up, and Aziraphale could only stand there and pray to God he was not making a mistake. 

~~

Crowley was nervous. Actually, scratch that, the word nervous didn’t even begin to cover how he felt as he walked into the bookshop a couple hours later. He was nauseous and jittery as he stepped inside the familiar shop entryway. He was filled with a sickening sense of hope, but he tried to be realistic that it was highly unlikely that his angel would agree to the proposed cover story. 

“Angel?” he called as he stepped inside. 

“In the kitchen, Crowley!” called Aziraphale from the far back. 

Crowley walked to the very back of the shop where the Angel was sitting drinking his tea and snacking on a tart.

“Could I offer you some tea?” Aziraphale spoke up, his eyes warm and welcoming, when Crowley walked in.

The angel seemed unbothered by Crowley’s presence, his expression, and eyes oddly more confident and steadfast than usual, as though… as though he had made his choice and was at peace with it. Whatever decision had been made; the angel seemed unlikely to waver in his thinking and Crowley could only hope it wasn’t a way to ease the demon before rejecting him outright. 

Crowley shuffled his feet as he stepped closer, taking a seat near the angel. “Uh, no. No thank you.”

Aziraphale nodded and took another sip of his own tea, but he watched Crowley carefully. The more he contemplated the discussion they would be having today, the further convinced he was that this was the right choice. Seeing how nervous Crowley was right now made him smile, albeit regrettably.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale started and surprised the demon by taking his hand. “This cover plan of yours…”

“I know you don’t want to do it, Angel, and that’s okay,” Crowley interrupted Aziraphale before he could say anything more. “I just, I wanted to offer it because I thought it would be the best option, but if you’re not into that, I get it. I mean you would have to be around me a lot more than usual and I’m not exactly easy to take sometimes. I mean I’m definitely not nice or beautiful or anything that’s enticing, I know, but I was just wanting to do what I thought would be best considering the boy and how Hell and Heaven are trying to start the…”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale snapped, stunned by the demon’s words; outraged by the thoughts he seemed to carry about himself. He could almost feel the other’s self-loathing and that hurt. It hurt because he knew deep down that he was responsible for it. 

Crowley went silent immediately. A lot more truths had just poured out of him than he had intended. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said again but more gently. He retook the demon’s trembling, now clawed (when did that happen?) hand, into his own. 

Crowley felt the little snake on his face twitch at the divine aura coming off the angel’s skin. He couldn’t meet the angel’s eyes. 

“I was going to say,” Aziraphale spoke, his thumb caressing pale knuckles, “That yes darling, I would like to marry you.”

Crowley just sat there; ramrod straight, as yellow serpentine eyes snapped up to meet ocean blue. 

“WHAT?!” he yelped. 

Aziraphale smiled, but it was tainted with grief. He felt regret for the actions he had done in the past to his poor demon. Regret for words he had spoken out of fear or anger. Regret for allowing Crowley to go so long believing he should feel unwanted and unloved. That Aziraphale could not, would not, return his affections. 

“I would like to marry you,” Aziraphale repeated, his gaze and tone extremely serious. “and not… not just as a cover story.”

Crowley was silent, eyes wide and completely yellow. Aziraphale watched him for any sign of what he might be feeling, but the demon seemed to be in a state of shock. 

“You are my best friend, Crowley. My only friend if I am being honest,” the angel continued. “When you brought this idea up last night, I honestly was beside myself with joy. The very idea that we could marry, even if under the guise of a cover, it was everything I have ever wanted. I… perhaps I got a bit lost in my thoughts. I apologize. I did not mean to make you feel that your proposal was rejected.”

Crowley still said nothing, nor did he remove his hand that laid lax within the angels own.

“I have lied to you for too long,” Aziraphale whispered, tone subdued. “I’ve lied to myself for even longer.”

Aziraphale squeezed the demon’s hand before reaching up towards the demon’s face. His approach was slow and cautious, giving the other the opportunity to pull away if he wanted to. 

“Would you mind if I take these off? I want to see you, my dear, for the rest of this discussion.”

Crowley gave a slight nod and when Aziraphale removed the dark lenses, he nearly cried. The demon’s face was white, but his eyes, they were filled with an excess of conflicting emotions. Pain, happiness, disbelief, sorrow, and confusion. 

“That’s better,” The angel choked out, breathing to calm himself down before continuing, his palm gently cradling the others cheek. He nearly sobbed when the demon leaned into his touch. 

“Crowley,” he looked into the demon’s eyes. “I love you.”

The demon flinched back; eyes wide as he shook his head emphatically, drawing back completely. 

“No, Aziraphale, that… are you… is this just a part of the cover because… I can’t… I mean if you…”

The angel surged forward as the demon broke down. 

Crowley attempted to back away further, but Aziraphale moved with him until he was all but cradling the other to his chest as Crowley cried, clawed hands clutching onto the lapels of his jacket. 

With soothing words, Zira cooed to the only person who meant more to him than Heaven. More to him than this world in its entirety. 

“Easy now my darling,” he rocked the demon as though he were a child. “I’m so sorry,” the angel choked out, “I know in the thousands of years we’ve known each other, I never expressed it. I never wanted you to know. I was so scared our sides would find out and kill us, but I…” he took a deep breath. “It’s true, Crowley. And I can’t hide it anymore. When you mentioned this cover story, I realized that finally, just maybe, we could be happy if only for a decade. That maybe now I could…”

Aziraphale sobbed, trying to breathe through his own pent up emotions. So much regret. 

“It sounds cowardly now and you deserve so much better. So much more than my own desperation. You deserve to be loved the way that you love, but I… I’m sorry that it took me until the end of the world for me to tell you what you always wanted to hear. I wish I had been as brave as you. My beautiful, brave demon. I wish I had told you sooner.”

“You mean it then?” Crowley whispered, his eyes bordering on something wild and desperate. “You aren’t just saying this for the sake of the cover?”

“No,” Aziraphale told him sternly but lovingly, “I mean every word, Crowley.”

Aziraphale reached up and caressed the demons face, cupping his cheek. He smiled when the demon leaned into his touch once more. He placed a soft kiss against the other’s forehead. 

“I love you, Crowley. I want to marry you. Will you… will you consider marrying me? And not just as a cover story. I want to spend the rest of my life, however long that is, with you by my side. I’m tired of running, dear one. I want to live or die trying, knowing that you love me and that you are aware of just how much I love you. How much I have always loved you.”

Crowley couldn’t stop the tears. He couldn’t stop the harsh, chest heaving sobs, and he didn’t want to. After years believing Aziraphale hated him, was disgusted by him, or worse, didn’t even consider Crowley a friend worth knowing, he was being told the opposite. That all this time, the angel loved him as much as Crowley loved Aziraphale. 

“W-What about going too fast?” the serpent whispered shakily, “I know I’m a d-demon, I know I’m not g-good. I know you don’t trust me. I just… I don’t want you to rush into this. I can’t… I can’t survive it if this is all just a lie. I would die, Aziraphale, you are killing me if this all just… just a lie…”

Aziraphale cried with him as he held Crowley to him. How badly had he hurt his poor love? How many times in the last millennia did his words and actions torture this amazingly kind, beautiful creature? No more. Never again.

“Oh, my darling, my beautiful lovely dearest, my sweet kind demon, my love,” the angel choked out the words, “I was the one going too fast. Not you. I feared my own feelings for you, but not because you’re a demon, Crowley,” he hurried to reassure the other. “but because I’ve loved you for a very, very long time and didn’t understand what it was I was feeling. You are my best friend, you are the most beautiful person inside and out that I have ever known, and you… I am so sorry for my hurtful words. I trust you dear heart, more than I have ever trusted anyone. More than I trust myself even. I was the one going too fast because I could never see what was in front of me, only what I feared might come to pass.”

“Z-Zira,” the demon sobbed, his entire body shaking as they both sunk onto the floor of the kitchen, their long limbs entangled around one another.

Aziraphale cradled the demon closer. One hand tucked into Crowley’s hair and the other wrapped around his beloved’s thin bony waist. So many times, he had desired to hold Crowley like this, but he had never allowed himself to be tempted. Now… if the end of the world was truly coming, what did it matter? They will have to become their own side to win this, and Aziraphale would Fall now, before he would ever betray this stunning singular creature. So unlike any other. 

“I was just so frightened for you,” Aziraphale admitted after a few moments of silence as the sobs died down, “I was also frightened for myself. I’m sorry I am such a coward my dear.”

“No,” Crowley argued, finally looking up. Tear streaks still lined his face and the angel felt his heart stutter painfully. “No, Zira, you’re not a coward. You’re the smartest person I know. You did what I couldn’t. You kept walking away when it might have gotten us killed.”

“Well, no matter the past, we are here now, together, my dear, and I will never let you go again.” 

Aziraphale held Crowley’s face between his hands. He used his thumbs to gently wipe away the demon’s tears. 

“Wait, there’s… there’s something else you should know… about me,” Crowley whispered, choked. 

Aziraphale studied the demon.

“I… I’m not… my name isn’t…Ngk…” Crowley had to stop and breathe. 

What if Aziraphale hated him once he found out the truth?

“Crowley, no matter who you were, it doesn’t matter to me. Whether that is your former heavenly identity you are talking about, or your demonic one. Crowley is who you are now, right? It’s who you told me you are. You have never lied to me, darling, but I understand if you need to get this off your chest. Whatever it is though, it doesn’t change what I feel for you. I quite think at this point, nothing could.”

Crowley choked out something that was a mix between another sob and a laugh.

“Zira…” he looked up at this angel. It needed to be said. This couldn’t be kept secret, and yet… he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

“It’s okay, we have time,” Aziraphale assured him with a gentle kiss against each eye lid, “when your ready to tell me, I will listen. Until then, everything is fine.”

The demon sighed. 

“Will you marry me Aziraphale?” Crowley whispered; the words faint but bold upon his lips. He wanted to do this right. 

“Oh yes, my love, yes,” Aziraphale held him close, enjoying the feel of his demon finally within his arms. His beloved Crowley against his chest, heartbeat against heartbeat, flesh against flesh. “I was thinking a small ceremony the human way might suffice for now, make it legal. I… I would also like to get rings if you wouldn’t be opposed.”

“I would like that,” the demon sighed, suddenly exhausted. It felt like a dream as he laid there, cuddled into the arms of his angel. 

‘Mother please’, Kral thought up, towards the heavens. ‘Please don’t let this be a dream’.


	34. Start of a New Decade, 2010-2018 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis Fell make their appearances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Attempted Rape/Non-Con elements this chapter, not too graphic, but it is there.

It was not a dream.

The wedding the following day was a simple ceremony in front of a human judge who said a few words and announced them husband and wife. It wasn’t anything showy or even emotional, but to the angel and demon who met one another on the steps of the courthouse on that beautiful sunny morning, it was the best and most magnificent thing they had ever taken part in. 

Not a lot changed after their sudden marriage. They continued to live separately and to work on opposite sides. The only thing that changed was that they had a plan in mind to stop the end of the world and that they weren’t just winging it blindly like they had for the past six thousand years. That for once, both were communicating and being honest with one another instead of reacting to a fear they have both shared since the day they met. A fear of being found out. That their love would be rejected. That they would be forever alone.

In no longer seemed as important, that fear. They loved one another completely, and with the end of the world already counting down, what else was there to fear? If they didn’t take the risk to admit to their love now and the world did end, neither would have ever been able to forgive themselves for waiting. 

~~

Crowley was now in his female form and had been since the Wedding. 

She looked like her usual self, but her hair was long and curly, drawn back into a messy bun, half up and half down. She dressed in a black skirt suit with a silky red undershirt. The sharply cut pencil skirt reached just below her knees and the undershirt, though a bit too lowcut to be considered conservative, was easily hidden with the silver scarf she wore around her neck in addition to the black richly-designed jacket. On her feet were one-inch heels, not too tall, but tall enough, and on her head, a beautiful lacy black hat with a shortened half-veil to better hide her eyes. 

She looked like Crowley, but unlike the demons softer and more rounded features, his feminine form was made with sharper, more pointed, sterner qualities. She was also a bit shorter than his usual height, but just as thin and lanky. It was like looking at a gothic more modern looking Mary Poppins, especially when the demon added a black umbrella and large carpet bag to her ensemble. But mostly importantly, on the ring finger of her left hand, a beautiful gold band with a black diamond and several smaller white diamonds, adorned her skin. If one were to pull the band off, they would also see the words ‘Our Side’ inscribed within and bracketed by a beautiful set of angel wings.

As for Aziraphale, he chose to make his form much less like his usual self. He added hideous buck teeth and changed his hair to a chocolate brown. He also added a thick beard and mustache with hints of grey to his face and gave himself a rosier complexion with a much rounder and larger build. He also changed his clothes to be a bit baggier, consisting of a long-sleeved blue collared shirt with overalls, work boots, and a straw hat. He also slightly changed his eyes from an icy ocean blue to more of a light baby blue. 

Despite the changes to his person, he still could easily be identified as Aziraphale behind the get up, if one looked closely. And like the newly named Ashtoreth, upon his ring finger on his left hand, sat a beautiful silver band. The silver band had a beautiful sapphire in the center, with three smaller white diamonds on each side. And, like Crowley’s, if one were to remove the ring and look inside, the words “Our Side” was inscribed and his own bracketed not with angel wings, but with two small beautifully engraved black snakes. 

~~

Getting hired was made a lot easier due to their cover story. It also helped that they made themselves much more appealing than the other candidates with some slight ethereal prodding. 

Aziraphale who took the name of “Brother Francis Fell” was the sweetest, gentlest, and most soft-spoken man the Dowling’s had ever met. There just something about him that made you feel you could trust him. The nanny too was very appealing to them, but seeing as she is from Hell, her own influence came in a much more sensual manner.  
For Mrs. Dowling, the woman was taken with how commandingly gentle the other woman was, and she felt relieved in her presence, as though she knew that the demon had things under control. It gave her a sense of freedom, to leave things in “Nanny Ashtoreth Fell’s” capable hands. Harriet Dowling had been envious of the mothers who so easily bore and raised their children. Now she felt freed to take pride in her own wants and desires.

For Mr. Dowling however, though Crowley attempted to appeal to the man the same way he had Mrs. Dowling by giving him a sense of euphoria and freedom, it backfired a bit. Mr. Dowling was a man who had often given into acts of lust with former and current female household staff. He wasn’t a cruel man necessarily, but he wasn’t a good man either. And despite Nanny Ashtoreth being married, Crowley could feel the man’s lust for her quite easily. It was not a nice feeling and she made certain to keep her distance if they were alone in the same room at any time. 

That being said, things began to change for the better as the two ethereal beings settled into their roles within the Dowling household. Crowley couldn’t stop loving the little anti-christ. As soon as she saw the boy, she knew that this baby was the same one she had delivered to the nunnery. She knew because of the way his dark blue eyes tracked her movements and the way he smiled upon seeing her, as though he recognized her demonic signature subconsciously. 

“Hello sweet boy,” she had whispered as she pulled the now two-year-old into her arms that first day after reuniting with the child. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it my dear?”  
The toddler had almost immediately given into her embrace the moment the demon’s arms had wrapped around him, and Crowley was smitten. 

The Dowling’s had named their son Adam Warlock Dowling, but most in the household called him by his middle name of Warlock, though his parents called him Adam. Crowley just called him ‘hellspawn’, and not because she thought him a monster, but because she loved him dearly, and nicknames were kind of her thing. Everyone needs a nickname.

Often, while she was nursing young Adam in the nursery or on the patio, she would glance up and find herself being watched by Aziraphale. He never spoke or even approached the child those first few weeks as they both attempted to learn their new positions here upon the estate, he just stood there and watched her with a look of pure unconcealed love upon his face. 

“What?” she finally asked him one day, “why do you keep looking at me like that?”

And he would just smile and tell her how beautiful she is, especially with a child in her arms.

~~

When Warlock was four years old, Nanny Ashtoreth decided the child needed a change of scenery. The boy’s estate was huge and while playing there with a toddler was great fun, Crowley felt the boy should begin being introduced to the world around him. 

“A picnic?” Aziraphale hummed that night as he sat before the field house fireplace. 

He often enjoyed the fireplace, curling in front of it in the nearest armchair with a book and a cup of piping hot tea. Crowley on the other hand, much like at the bookshop, would take the couch and move in a thousand different ways before settling on a single spot where she stayed and napped most of the evening.

Though now married, the two were still hesitant on being intimate in any way. They did not know when heaven might make an appearance and neither knew if there might be consequences should it be discovered that a divine being and a demonic being had intercourse. Would that change anything biologically? Would it leave a mark that heaven or hell might notice? They did not want to take such a risk. Not yet. 

Still, they enjoyed cuddling into one another’s arms and the occasional heated kisses did happen from time to time, but both dreamed of a day where they could just be free to love one another, wholly and completely without restraint. If ever a day was truly possible. 

“Yeah a picnic,” Crowley nodded from where she was laid back on the cushions, completely relaxed with her feet in the air, resting against the back of the couch as her head nearly hung over the edge of the seat, her hair gently brushing the floor. It was an odd position, but she is a snake, so Aziraphale just assumed it felt good to her rather unorthodox vertebrate. “I was thinking of taking Adam to a nearby park and allowing to him feed the ducks. It won’t be St. James of course, but it might be fun.”

“That sounds delightful, my darling,” the angel smiled, memories of their own strolls in the park coming to mind. 

His smile widened further when he noticed the blush working its way up the demon’s neck at the endearment. His poor sweet Crowley, so adorably shy sometimes. It was charming. She is charming. And it takes everything in Aziraphale he has not to take the demon here and now on that very couch. Heaven and Hell be damned. 

“I can pack you up a nice lunch,” Aziraphale offers, “maybe a couple turkey sandwiches, some goldfish for young Adam, and … maybe an apple and some apple sauce.”

Crowley glances at the angel with a raised eyebrow, followed by a sharp smirk, shaking her head at her husband’s ridiculousness, but she can’t deny the flutter that shoots through her chest. She loves Aziraphale so dang much. She can’t remember a time that she hadn’t, not since the garden. 

“Your ridiculous angel,” she says, but her tone is tender and warm.

“But you love me,” Aziraphale teases, though it comes out more affectionate than he had meant it to.

Crowley seems entirely pleased by the statement; her smirk becomes a widely beaming grin.

“Yeah,” the demon says, and she breathes out as though she can’t handle the emotions within herself as she says the words back, “I do. I love you, Aziraphale.”

And nothing, Aziraphale thinks, could take this love away from them now. 

~~

Crowley had been doing a fair job these past four years of staying away from Mr. Dowling when in the house alone. At six, Adam was finally old enough he didn’t need his Nanny around all the time while playing, and so Crowley had taken to staying relatively close by but always watching from a distance. 

It was one such morning, sunny and clear, that Crowley had taken Adam outside to play in the backyard of the estate. It was a Sunday and most of the household staff had been given the day off due to the Easter holiday. Aziraphale had also taken the day off to check in at the bookshop and Crowley’s flat and tend to the demon’s plants. 

It was rare for the two of them to be apart anymore, but both had agreed they should check in from time to time at home to assure all was as it should be. It also gave one another a slight break from being together all the time. While lovely, it was the first decade in six millennia that they had ever been around each other nearly every day, and so both felt it might be nice once every couple years, that they got away and had some ‘me-time’ so to speak. This had been Crowley’s idea because she had worried internally that the angel would become bored of her, though she would never admit this fear to Aziraphale. 

If the angel had guessed as to why the demon wanted this break, he never spoke of it, but every time the angel would leave on one of these ‘me-time’ day long excursions, he always made certain to kiss Crowley, remind her how much he loved her, and that he would be back tomorrow morning. And Crowley relished those memories every time she found herself alone. And this time was no different. 

As she watched Adam play with a kite in the distance, running to and fro, Crowley was lost in her memories, thinking about her angel and the kiss they had shared earlier that morning before Aziraphale left for the bookshop. She was so lost in her memories that she didn’t notice Mr. Dowling coming up behind her. 

Thaddeus Dowling was a politician with power and influence. He had money, he had fame, and he had reputation. Thaddeus Dowling also had a beautiful trophy wife and a wonderfully intelligent son. He also could have any woman he wanted if he just flashed enough cash around. So, when he hired Nanny Ashtoreth, married or not, he was certain that she would be in his bed by the end of the first year if not sooner. He was not expecting her to flat out refuse him when he first attempted to seduce her into said bed. And he certainly didn’t expect her ability to all but evade his presence nearly every single time he walked into a room. 

It was disturbing to him to be told no despite the amount of cash he had offered her, and it was aggravating to witness her escape every time he tried to corner her. More so, it was annoying to have her husband watching when the Nanny was distracted, but it became somewhat erotic that he had to chase after her like some teenager with a crush. Her refusals just made him want her even more. 

It wasn’t that Ashtoreth Fell was beautiful, though she certainly was a looker. In a lot of ways, he found her oddly intimidating at times, often coming off more assertive and belligerent than women usually are (at least around him). That didn’t really matter though to Thaddeus. If anything, it made his imagination that much more creative when trying to imagine what she might be like in the bedroom. Domineering, controlling, and harsh; a true mistress of the bedroom. A dominatrix hiding a whip and handcuffs under her pillow. 

And so, he had been waiting and watching for the perfect opportunity to try his hand again at pressuring her into his bed for the night. This day was the perfect opportunity with it being a holiday. Harriet was gone to visit family, the household staff was minimal, and even her husband the gardener, Francis Fell, had left to attend to personal matters, leaving his wife all alone for the day. And that opportunity presented itself when Ashtoreth took Adam outside to play with his new kite.

Like any six-year-old, the boy was entranced and would be for hours with his new toy. And Ashtoreth, she was sitting under a tree on a blanket, watching from a distance. Thaddeus was quiet as he approached her. So far, it seemed she hadn’t noticed him, and so he took the opportunity to study her a little closer. Normally she left the room so quickly, he never had the chance to really appreciate the sharp features of her face, the glistening crimson color of her hair. If only she removed her sunglasses, he thought to himself, he bet her eyes were beautiful. 

He could remember being a bit put off when she had first walked in four years ago, dressed in nearly all black and wearing dark lenses. It was only after she explained that she had an eye condition causing sensitivity to the light, that he found himself more than a little curious about what was hidden behind those frames. And this time, he was determined to get an answer. 

“Good morning,” he spoke, coming up alongside her.

Ashtoreth jumped at the voice and turns, her dark lenses peering up. She doesn’t seem pleased to see him, but he doesn’t let that deter him from his mission. 

“Mind if I sit with you?”

The Nanny hesitated before she sighs and relents. 

“Very well. You are the employer after all, I can’t deny you a spot on your own lawn.”

Though it certainly sounded like she wanted to. Thaddeus just smiles though, pleased, and shifts a bit closer to the woman who stiffens as he leans in.

“You smell fantastic,” he tells her, “like flowers.”

“That would be because of Francis,” she replies haughtily, “my husband, whom I love.”

It was a warning and a reminder in one, but Thaddeus was never one to take heed of such things. He was far to use to getting his own way. 

“Yes, good man, but a bit round, don’t you think? Haven’t you ever wondered what being with someone muscular and fit might be like?” he whispers into her ear.

And if Kral weren’t so angry right then, disgusted by this human’s intentions which she could feel pressing against her senses, she might have been amused that a human was trying to tempt a demon into sin. 

“I am quite happy with Francis, thank you.”

She turned away, hoping he would get the message. She was not expecting him to try a different approach. 

With a quick but forceful touch, the human had reached over and shoved his mouth against hers. She struggled to fight him off, not wanting to hurt him (Well okay, yes, she did very much want to hurt him) but not daring to lest she be fired. She had to stay with Adam, and altering human memories was not as simple as it sounds. 

The easiest way would be to simply reject him outright, which she had, but he was making it nearly impossible for her to not act without either severely damaging him, murdering him, or flat out manipulating his memory, which put strain on her own body. All outcomes could have a consequence she couldn’t fully foresee, and she did not want to risk being watched more closely by either side. Not with how she currently was free to love and live with Aziraphale, for what might be her only true opportunity. 

She pulled back from the harsh kiss and the feel of his teeth biting into her lip, drawing blood, but not before her glasses were sent flying across the picnic blanket by his elbow and she had been pushed down onto the grass with the human pressing himself on top of her, his hard erection grinding into her thigh.

Eyes open, she stared into his lust lined face and could see the moment he realized something wasn’t right. She could see the sudden panic, the fear, and the disgust as he looked up and took in her reptilian gaze. She could see the confusion and the horror of finding out she wasn’t human. It was a look she had witnessed many times in the past six millennia and one she tried desperately to never witness again. She hated her eyes, so it wasn’t surprising to her that others hated them too. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to be looked at like a monster. 

“What ARE you?” Thaddeus Dowling choked, backing away in terror. 

Her snake eyes followed him, unblinking. She didn’t have much of a choice now, she had to alter his memory. With a snap of her fingers, the human and all of time froze, and then she reached into his mind and found the memory of this morning and erased it completely. 

The danger here was that the human mind was creative. Almost as Creative as Crowley’s own. And so, when a memory is suddenly gone, it gets replaced with another of the individua’s own making. A memory not quite the truth but not a lie either, because the soul knows deep down what happened, but can no longer manage remembering what exactly occurred without some sort of logical creative justification. 

Therefore, when Crowley touched the humans mind and wiped the memory of this morning, in its place a new one was formed, and Thaddeus thought that he’d finally succeeded. That he saw amber colored human eyes behind the lenses and that he had finally gotten his way with the unobtainable Nanny. That he’d had sex with her right there on the picnic blanket, and that he had enjoyed it as she struggled against him before finally giving in and reciprocating as she had always secretly wanted to. 

Crowley didn’t stay in the human’s memories long enough to see the rest of Dowling’s imagination play out, only enough to know what it was he thought had happened. Then with another snap, Thaddeus was inside the house on his bed, deeply asleep, and when he woke, the human would either think it was a dream or that he’d actually done it, and then had gone in to take a nap. Either way, Crowley hoped it would dissuade Mr. Dowling from trying to do anything to her again, because next time, Kral couldn’t promise that she wouldn’t hurt the human. 

The feeling of being violated stayed with Crowley the rest of the day. Though Hell may be a horrible place, Kral was a Prince and he had never been touched sexually before without his approval (which he never gave and therefore it never happened). He had never been forced to do or try anything he did not want to do. Even in the past six thousand years, he had only ever had sex or physical touch when he wished for it and only ever with Alexander, some touching from Leonardo, and now only from Aziraphale. 

Of course, this wasn’t the first time that humans had attempted such a thing and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but it never made Kral feel any better about it. He hated all things related to sexual gratification that wasn’t permitted by the second party. It really made the hellfire within him burn with an overwhelming urge to destroy when he saw others suffer because of someone’s uninhibited impulses, but he never allowed those emotions to take control. Not even when it was he himself who was the one being violated. If he did let the rage and hate overpower him, he wasn’t certain he would be able to stop himself from murdering countless thousands of undeserving humans. 

Crowley never told Aziraphale about what Thaddeus had tried to do that day, though he was sure the angel suspected something. Brother Francis was never very friendly towards Mr. Dowling and his words became that much colder after returning to the cabin to find Crowley still widely upset the following morning. Regardless, the years passed without any further issue and Crowley enjoyed living with Aziraphale in peace behind closed doors as the day of Armageddon drew ever nearer.


	35. Hellhound Cometh, 2019 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the War begin. The Anti-Christ has awoken...

Adam Warlock Dowling was turning eleven today. It was the age when he would get his powers. It was the day Hell would be sending the boy a gift, a pet, a hellhound of his own. It was also the day that Crowley and Aziraphale would have to take a stand beside the boy they raised and help him understand the truth about his own identity once his powers were fully established. 

Crowley was a nervous wreck. As the boy’s Nanny and basically his mother, Crowley was frightened that Hell would realize how kind Adam truly was. That wasn’t to say the boy couldn’t be nasty and sarcastic and mischievous, but he wasn’t violent or evil or cruel. Adam was just… Adam. He was a beautiful, kind, funny, mischievous, energetic little boy who happened to be the anti-christ and the could-be destroyer of worlds.

“Darling, breathe,” Francis whispered to Ashtoreth who followed his advice and began to take deep slow breaths in and out. The angel rubbing her back the entire time to better ground his beloved in the here and now. 

“Better?” the gardener whispered.

Ashtoreth nodded and leaned into his embrace as the birthday celebration continued around them, completely oblivious to the panic rising within the two supernatural entities in the back corner of the tent. 

“The naming of the hellhound, I want to tell him how important it is,” she whispered.

“You said it couldn’t be influenced my dear. His naming will show exactly what sort of a child he is. Whatever happens my love, we did our best.”

“Yeah…” Crowley tried to exhale again, her chest tightening, “yeah, we tried.”

The angel gripped his wife’s hand as the demon gripped it back just as tightly, both waiting for the moment Adam would hear the howls of his hound. It would come eventually, though they knew not when. And since the hound would be strictly for Adam and no other, no one else would be able to see or hear the beast until after the naming process was completed.

Adam, who had been enjoying cake with his friends, The Them, from the village, turned when he heard a strange sound emitting from the woods. It sounded like… a wolf maybe? A dog? Curious, he turned and asked his best friend Pepper if she had heard the same sound, but she did not. He looked around for his beloved Nanny and Brother Francis, frowning when he did not see them. 

More than a little curious, Adam felt an odd pull to go and investigate the sounds for himself. Walking out of the tent without anyone seeming to notice, he made his way down into the depths of the woods. And then sure enough, there standing in front of him, was a darkened shadow that could only be that of a dog. Its shape was undefined, but to him it just… it seemed rather adorable. He didn’t know why he knew it, but he knew this creature was his. And when the thing came up to him, Adam smiled and patted its head with a fondness he didn’t yet understand. 

“You’re are a good boy, aren’t you?” he told the creature with a smile, “I think your name should be… dog.”

And so, it was. At the word of the anti-christ, reality bent, and the hellhound became a regular looking dog that was small with black and white fur and strange red eyes. It was a beautiful dog and Adam felt an odd sort of attachment for it. As though the dog were now a part of him. 

“Come on dog, we should introduce you to the others,” he told it, and so the dog followed its master back to the tent.

Crowley and Aziraphale who had been standing behind a tree nearby both stared at one another with wide eyes and mouths already twisting into giant beaming smiles.   
“We did it, Angel!” Crowley cried, burying her face into Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

And Aziraphale could only laugh as he spun his dearest around before kissing her fully on the lips.

“Oh, we did my love, we did.” 

He caressed her cheek, his eyes fondly taking her joy in as he pressed another, this time much gentler, kiss against soft lips. A kiss showing just how much he cherished her.  
“Come on, he’ll be looking for us,” Crowley giggled nervously, wiping a stray tear as she turned and hurried away. 

Stupid emotions, she groaned, but it did nothing to keep the pink rosy color from her cheeks. 

Aziraphale just followed her at a more leisurely pace with a gentle and knowing smile as the two supernatural entities returned to the party to celebrate with their boy on his eleventh birthday.

~~

The change in their young charge was not sudden or obvious, but they both knew it had happened. The child’s aura had changed to something almost beyond their senses. Almost.   
It was like attempting to see a star sitting just beyond the sun. It just didn’t happen without becoming nearly blinded. 

His aura was now so all-encompassing that they were just waiting for the day that they could tell Adam the truth about who and what he is, but they did not want to rush anything. They knew it would reveal itself naturally quite soon, and so they were content to wait until it did, but they hadn’t quite expected the circumstance in which it would manifest. 

As you know, children can be quite stubborn and emotional when frustrated. They also can get a bit hot headed and tend to say or do things that they don’t mean. Adam was no different. He was raised human and he acted human. He had no reason to think or act differently because he knew no different. So, when his father and he got into an argument about boarding school, well, he reacted as any pre-teen boy might.

“I am not going to go to a boarding school! I don’t want to!” he had shouted.

“Adam, look, you are too old to have a Nanny any longer and home studies just aren’t enough for you to get into a good university with a scholarship. I will not let my son be anything less than successful!” Mr. Dowling had shouted. “This family will not allow your selfish desires to stain our good reputation.”

“My selfish desires?” the boy had screamed, “you’re the one who is selfish! You make me so angry sometimes! Why can’t you just for once ask me what I want?!”

The spike in his aura drew Crowley’s attention. Nanny Ashtoreth had been standing nearby, not willing to get between father and son, and now suddenly realized the energy surrounding her young charge was growing rapidly darker. 

“Adam, honey, calm down…”

“Stay out of this, Ashtoreth!” Mr. Dowling snapped.

“Don’t talk to her like that! You leave Nanny alone!” Adam shouted back, his temper rising and with each word uttered. 

The energy in the room seemed to be growing exponentially, the tension thick and red-hot. 

“Adam,” She tried again, starting forward, knees shaking from the sudden increased pressure.

From far back in the gardens, Crowley noticed Aziraphale’s head snap up. No doubt even he could now feel the change in power. If Aziraphale could feel it, that meant heaven and hell might soon realize the boy has now completely awakened. That meant they would be coming for them, because neither side were very patient, not when it came to waiting.

“I said stay out of this, Nanny Fell!” Thaddeus Dowling shouted again, his hand coming up to grab her wrist and shove her out of the room. 

His impatience at her ‘interruption’ into their father-son ‘conversation’ quickly turned physical, and that was the last straw for Adam. 

As soon as Thaddeus touched her, the boy seemed to snap. 

“I said DON’T TOUCH HER!” he shouted, eyes glowing, and the energy around him all but skyrocketed. 

Crowley could see it as soon as it happened. It was as though time had completely slowed to a crawl without her having influenced it. 

Adam’s eyes burned a bright red. Aziraphale had started running for the house. And Dowling had backed up in fear of his own son. But most importantly and worryingly of all, coming from the boy was a burst of power fueled by his resentment, his anxiety, and his frustration. It was energy that would incinerate a normal human to ash, and while Crowley despised the said human it was now being directed at, she did not want Adam remembering that he had murdered his own father. 

So, she didn’t think when she moved. She didn’t hesitate in her hastily formed decision. All she could pray was that it wouldn’t be enough to completely obliterate her true self.   
Crowley stepped in front of Thaddeus Dowling and took the full brunt of Adam’s emotionally charged attack. 

The intensity of it tossed her back into Mr. Dowling who in turn got hurled against the wall and knocked unconscious. Adam though, he could only stare wide eyed, crying and screaming, as he scrambled to her side as soon as he realized what had happened. 

Crowley couldn’t feel anything but pain. Colors ran in front of her eyes and white static filled her ears. Though the force of the blast had already dissipated upon striking her, the energy it had released continued to ravage her body and soul. She could feel it burning her from the inside out. 

She could hear voices just beyond the white noise. She could hear a name being called out above the screaming. Her screaming. She could hear weeping, but nothing made sense. She couldn’t seem to remember what was happening or why. She knew nothing but unending agony. 

In the kitchen, Adam was shaking as he knelt beside his Nanny, hands raised with fear and confusion as she writhed and screamed in anguish. He knew he had done this. He didn’t know how, but he knew it was him. He had hurt his Nanny and father. He was the one who was causing the woman he considered his true mother, endless amounts of torment. 

“N-Nanny,” he whimpered, but he didn’t dare touch her, afraid to cause her further harm. 

The sound of the kitchen’s back patio door being ripped open caused him to look up into the wide eyed, pale, and stricken expression of Brother Francis, Nanny’s husband. 

“I-I don’t… I didn’t mean…” he began to beg.

But Aziraphale wasn’t hearing his young charge. 

His eyes were locked on his demon who was no longer screaming, but she continued to writhe, whimpering and moaning with pain. Her entire body was smoldering and her arms where she had apparently taken the hit, no doubt having raised them to shield her chest and head from the attack, were charred black. 

Tar-like black ichor ran from the wounds, pooling beneath her as she cried out every few seconds, the blood of her true form, meaning the hit she had taken was hurting her true self as much as her physical corporation. He could see the energy still encircling her and though it was slowly lessening, it continued to burn away at her essence, feeding upon it. She wouldn’t last much longer.

“Crowley…” he whispered, dropping to his knees, hands trembling with a need, a desperation, to help. 

He didn’t even notice he had called her Crowley and not Ashtoreth. He didn’t notice the confusion and fear on Adam’s face. He didn’t notice anything but his darling demon as he gently reached out and attempted to heal. Attempted to stop the energy from doing any further damage. 

Crowley recoiled at his touch, screaming out again as it caused the energy within her to flare up where his fingertips had made contact. Aziraphale immediately gasped and drew back. The energy had started to feed off his own. It was… and oh, that made so much sense, and it also made the angel’s heart clench with dread. This attack, it was feeding off Crowley’s own power. And it would continue to, until there was nothing left. Until Crowley had nothing left to give. Until Crowley was… gone. Extinguished. Permanently. 

“Adam,” Aziraphale turned to the boy who stared up at him with teary eyes. “Adam, you need to heal her. I c-can’t do it myself.”

“I… I… I don’t know how,” he whispered desperately, “I didn’t even m-mean to do this. I was just s-so angry and…”

“Adam, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Aziraphale tried to comfort. Tried to be patient and understanding and calm, but the sound of Crowley’s agonized whimpers shook him to his core. “I know you didn’t mean it, dear boy, accidents happen. Cro-Nanny Ashtoreth won’t blame you either. But listen to me Adam, she will d-die if you don’t heal her. I can’t do it, because this energy you sent out won’t allow me to without causing her further damage. I need you to try. Can you do that for me? Adam?”

Aziraphale was all but begging the boy at this point. The very thought of Crowley, his Crowley, being permanently gone from this world. From existence. It was beyond imagining. It was… it would be better to take a dip in hellfire than to live an eternity alone without the other’s company. 

Adam stared down at his Nanny. He was so confused and so frightened. He had been the one to somehow hurt her, but he could see the truth now as he listed to Brother Francis, and as he focused on what his gardener had said was his energy. He could see it now, how it was draining his Nanny of life. 

“I… I can try,” he whispered as he looked to the gardener, nodding. “W-What do I do?”

“The energy is your own and you have control over the forces of reality. They bend to your will, Adam, just call to them. Bring the energy back into yourself. Bind it to your will and then think about healing. Focus on Cr-Nanny and try, dearest boy, try to heal her, body and soul.”

Adam was so frightened, but he nodded and stared down at his Nanny. He tried not to focus on the burns or her cries of pain. He focused on the energy he could now sense tormenting her. He stretched out his hand and laid it on her leg. 

At first nothing happened, and the energy seemed to just ignore him, but then that made him furious and with a snarl of anger, he called for it. 

“COME TO ME!” he shouted both out loud and within himself. 

The energy seemed startled by the rage and then it surged back towards him. Adam gasped as it returned within himself, but he didn’t allow it to distract him from his focus. He kept his hand upon his Nanny’s leg, ignoring how Brother Francis was now whispering into her ear soothing words of reassurance and comfort, and he focused upon that same energy again, but this time using it to heal. 

“HEAL,” he whispered the word out loud again in an urgent tone, “HEAL HER,” he pressed.

And it did as he commanded.

Adam could feel his power leave him and he could sense it now as it rippled around his Nanny and began to mend what it had previously destroyed. The burns slowly faded, and with them, her sobs too faded into silence. When the healing seemed complete, Adam removed his hands and could only sit there, trembling, as he watched his Nanny’s eyes blink open, dull and hazy. 

It was also then that he noticed she wasn’t wearing her sunglasses. Glasses he had never seen behind, and now he knew why. Her eyes weren’t human. Serpentine pupils were dilated within shadows of previously felt pain, and yellow had spread, covering the whites of her eyes completely, making her seem that much more alien. 

“C-Crowley, darling,” Brother Francis cooed as the demon shuddered, her body still recovering despite the healing it had just received. “Speak to me, my dear one, can you hear me?”

Crowley breathed for a moment, eyes still open and unseeing as she took long slow breaths to calm her own frazzled nerves and over stimulated senses.

Adam leaned a bit closer. Though scared and utterly confused about what just happened and who she and brother Francis really are, he loved his Nanny and was concerned he hadn’t completely healed her.

“A-Asssszzzzziraphale,” came the hissed whisper.

“I’m here, dear girl, I have you,” he cradled her gently against his chest, rocking her slow. “Do you think you can sit up for me?”

Crowley hesitated but nodded, slowly allowing herself to be raised and pulled further into the lap of her angel for added support. Serpentine eyes widened when they landed on Adam who was staring at them.

“Adam…” she whispered.

At the sound of his name upon her lips, the boy dove forward and buried his head in her stomach as he began to sob out apologies. Crowley was beyond relieved to see the child was okay, but she also knew they had to move soon, or heaven and hell would be upon their doorstep. They had just used far too many high-level miracles for them not to have noticed the anti-christ’s awakening was now fully complete. 

She turned to Aziraphale who understood her fears and with a quick snap of his fingers, he erased the memories of all the household staff who had been peeking in from a distance. He erased the memory of Thaddeus Dowling as well, who was now tucked safely in his bed upstairs with a minor headache. 

He also changed himself and Crowley back to their usual more familiar appearances and then with a final snap, because why not use another large miracle, the three of them found themselves relocated in the bookshop, buried beneath a mountain of wards the two of them had set in case of an emergency several years ago. Nothing would be getting in there for a while. Not without invitation.

Adam had cried himself to sleep in her arms, not having even noticed the changes going on around him. Poor boy was exhausted from having used his powers for the first time. He was only eleven and he’d just been through something traumatic, so Aziraphale carefully lifted the boy off of Crowley and laid him on the settee in the backroom and covered him with a blanket before turning back to his demon who was still sitting on the floor looking more than a little shell shocked.

“My dear, are you…” he started to say, only to feel himself sway as the room blurred. 

“Aziraphale!” Crowley was up and stumbling to him before the angel had a chance to do much more than take a single step in his husband’s direction. 

The demon hurried to provide his angel with support as Aziraphale all but collapsed on the stool behind the register. 

“You used up too much power erasing all their memories and then zapping us here, silly angel,” the demon rebuked, but it came out soft and worried, and a tad raspy from screaming. 

“I’ll be fine, my love,” he smiled at Crowley. “Are you okay, my dear? You’re still so pale.”

At least he tried to smile at Crowley. By the unimpressed expression on his dearest’s face, he assumed it probably looked closer to a grimace. 

“I’m fine now, Aziraphale. You need to rest,” the demon spoke soothingly, “how about I get you some tea?”

“Nonsense,” he waved him off, “you need just as much rest as I do, but we both know we can’t do that right now. Heaven and Hell no doubt felt the thrum of Adam’s energy and if they didn’t sense him, which is unlikely, they would have undoubtedly sensed my own thereafter. They will be coming, and we cannot allow them to take the boy.”

“So, what do we do?” Crowley questioned; his eyes locked on the sleeping child in the back room of the bookshop. “He only just now awoke, Angel. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. If they come, he won’t be able to fight back.”

“No, but we raised him Crowley. We will do all we can to keep him safe. You know that.”

The demon nodded, sighing. 

“If they do come for us, we can’t stay here,” Crowley spoke, “too many innocent humans around in this part of the city. We need to go someplace less populated.”

“There is an old military airport in Tadfield,” Aziraphale hummed, “it might be the closest place to us that is mostly deserted.”

“I can drive. We should hurry though, they might…”

The demon cut himself off when a knock on the bookshop doors drew their attention. If it were an angel or demon, they wouldn’t have been so courteous as to announce themselves, which left only one other possibility. 

“The bookshop is closed!” Aziraphale shouted.

“I’m a friend, please, I can help you!” an unfamiliar woman’s voice shouted through the wood.

Both angel and demon exchanged a wary look before Crowley started towards the door. Aziraphale wanted to follow, but he was a little concerned he might fall over if he tried to stand at the present moment, so he watched and waited, ready to force himself into action should it turn out to be a threat. 

Upon opening the door, Crowley blinked in surprise to see four humans standing there. The first was a young woman with long brown hair and round glasses. The second was a young man with short light brown curly hair and square rimmed glasses. He was taller than the other humans standing around him. 

The third human, Crowley recognized. Sergeant Shadwell was a human contact he had worked with since the late sixties and to see the old self-proclaimed witchfinder on his doorstep, was a bit shocking. Behind Shadwell was an older woman with curly vintage styled red hair and thick makeup who was gripping the Sergeant’s arm. Her face lit up into a broad smile as Crowley stared the four of them down.

“Who are you?” he asked them, expression guarded.

“Allies in your efforts to stop Armageddon,” the young woman replied critically, “My name is Anathema Device and you may be the Earth’s last hope.”


	36. The War to end all Wars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come. the forces of heaven and hell have them surrounded. Now what?

Crowley and Aziraphale stood facing the four humans before them with guarded expressions. As they entered the bookshop, Crowley made certain to keep himself between the humans, and Aziraphale and Adam. He would not allow them to harm his family. 

He almost smiled at the fear on their faces as he spread his black his wings and allowed red and black scales to shimmer across his human façade as his fangs elongated. Not quite becoming his full demonic form but allowing them a glimpse of what it is they would be dealing with, should they choose to attack. 

“You’re a demon then,” the one called Anathema spoke, eyes locked on his own. 

Unfortunately, he hadn’t had time to magic up any new sunglasses, so they were there for all the world to see. 

“I am,” he hissed, the serpentine features making themselves more pronounced due to his anxiety. “Now explain to ussss humanssss, what do you mean by alliessss and Earth’ssss lasssst hope?”

“I am a witch and a descendant of a woman known as Agnes Nutter.”

“The Seer?” Aziraphale questioned, finally finding the strength to come up and stand just behind his husband’s left shoulder. 

“Yes, exactly,” Anathema agreed, pleased they knew about her ancestor. “long story short, Shadwell,” she jerked her finger at the old man, “brought his wife and his assistant to come hunt me, a witch, down, because they thought me evil. Luckily, Madame Tracy there has more sense than that.”

Madame Tracy, the older woman, smiled at the two with a relaxed and oddly accepting expression. Almost too relaxed for a human. Crowley wondered if she weren’t just the slightest bit as crazy as her husband. 

“With her and Newton’s help,” she jerked a thumb at the young man who nervously shifted where he stood, “we were able to translate the book of prophecies I had been left by my ancestor. Prophecies that pointed me to you guys.”

“What exactly did it say?” Aziraphale questioned, his curiosity overriding his suspicions.

“A lot of mumbo jumbo,” Shadwell huffed.

“Which translated,” Anathema said over top of the older man, “to a date, time, and location. The date is today, the time is now, and the location is here. When we figured that out, we came immediately.”

“And ussss being the lasssst hope of the Earth?” Crowley questioned, his serpentine demonic nature still very much in place even as he calmed, though still uncertain if he could trust these humans and their words. 

“I can tell that you don’t believe me, but it’s true. Agnes Nutter’s prophecy after the meeting time was this, ‘In thou field of sky doth flight, death and war shall bringeth their might. Heaven shall come and Hell shall rise, and there will beith a great divide. Only third shall stand, one above all, from one cometh light and from one cometh shadow. Great is the voice that raiseth up high and rejectith his blood or all of Earth he doth deny.’”

“The airfield,” Aziraphale gasped, “I knew it. I knew we needed to go somewhere open.”

“Are you really believing this, angel?” Crowley asked the other, eyes narrowed.

“What do you have to lose by believing me?” Anathema questioned him, “aren’t you already low on options, or else why would you be here in a book shop hiding beneath a wall of wards?”

“She is right, my darling,” Aziraphale spoke, resting a gentle hand upon Crowley’s arm, “we have very little options remaining. With that light show Adam put off, Heaven and Hell should arrive at any time, just as soon as they locate our signatures.”

“Then we need to run,” Crowley frowned, “we need to get to the airfield where we can more easily defend our position without innocent deaths.”

“We can take you there,” Anathema offered.

“Why would you do that?” Crowley questioned them. 

“Earth is our home,” Newt spoke up, surprising everyone, even himself.

“Yes,” Anathema stated, flashing the man a pleased smile. “and we will fight for it.”

“You’re not alone, dearies,” Madame Tracy smiled kindly.

“I volunteer the efforts of my witchfinder army,” Sergeant Shadwell nodded with a stern eye. 

Crowley wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t bring himself to do either. It was crazy, the idea of standing up to all of Heaven and Hell with just four humans, he and Aziraphale, and a young anti-christ, but there you have it, their own little squadron of misfits from Earth. 

“N-Nanny?” a soft, hesitant voice came from behind.

Crowley turned; all others forgotten as he spied out dark blue eyes. 

“Adam,” he whispered and knelt, arms spread wide in waiting.

“Nanny!” Adam shot off the couch and into his arms, burying his face in the demon’s chest as he breathed out soft cries of relief. “I was so afraid. I’m sorry, Nanny, I’m sorry. I hurt you, almost killed you. I’m so sorry!”

“Adam, hellspawn, it’s okay, you didn’t mean to. I love you honey, it’s okay,” Crowley cooed as he held the boy close to him.

Aziraphale smiled and gently carded his fingers through the boy’s hair as Adam calmed down and drew back, staring up at the two of them before snorting. 

“You guys look so different,” he replied with a wobbly smile that soon fell flat. “Was everything a lie?”

“No, Adam, no,” Crowley told him sternly, he studied the way the boy seemed to tremble. “You are not a lie and our love for you is not a lie. There’s just… a lot you don’t know about us, or about yourself.”

Adam took a deep breath and glanced past the two towards the four humans who seemed suddenly uncertain if they should remain in the room or not. 

“Tell me?” he finally asked, turning his attention back to his Nanny. “I don’t even know what to call you anymore.

“My name is Crowley,” he smiled sadly, “and this is Aziraphale.”

“I can see it now,” Adam whispered, eyes narrowed in on them as he used his powers to see past the corporal. “I can see your auras. You’re a demon, aren’t you?” he asked, before turning to Aziraphale. “And you’re an angel.”

“Yes, my boy, we are,” Aziraphale replied softly.

“What am I?” he murmured, the sound so delicate, it was barely more than a whisper of air.

“You are Adam Warlock Dowling, our beautiful boy, and the child who will save the world,” Crowley told him confidently. 

Adam blinked, startled. “Save the world? Me?”

“Yes,” Crowley smiled, “I know there is so much you still need to know Adam, but we don’t have very much time to discuss it now. We need to leave, before Heaven and Hell arrive.”  
“As I said, we can take you,” Anathema spoke up, stepping closer. “I brought my car. It may be a tight fit for seven of us, but…”

A sudden quake had all of them grasping at their surroundings in an effort not to fall as the bookshop shook, its entire foundation shifting. The ceiling began to crack, and Crowley quickly took Adam into his arms and dove out of the way as a piece of plaster fell right where they had both just been kneeling. 

“They’re here,” Crowley snarled, yellow eyes flashing. 

“We must leave now.” Aziraphale spoke. He turned to Crowley and Adam, his eyes filled with love and desperation. “I can send you both first.”

“No, Aziraphale no, you already used enough power today!” Crowley argued, eyes wide and fearful, “if you use more now, you may not have enough left to defend yourself!”

“I will make do, my love,” he answered.

“No, Aziraphale… No, Don’t-!” but it was already too late. With a snap of the angel’s fingers, Crowley and Adam vanished from the bookshop. 

The angel swayed; his powers drained as he turned to the humans who stood gaping behind him. 

“Go to the airfield in tadfield, they may need any assistance you can give them.”

“What about you?” Anathema frowned.

“I will do what I can to keep Heaven and Hell’s attention on me. Please, go.”

With a focused thought, the humans suddenly found themselves outside the bookshop and unable to re-enter. Up above them, dark clouds began to form. 

“We need to go, now,” Anathema shouted as the four scrambled into their car and sped towards Tadfield.

Aziraphale didn’t watch them leave, but he could feel it as they did. He hoped Crowley would forgive him for his decision, but as he stood there, he knew it was already too late to try and run now even if he wanted to. Heaven’s gate formed beneath his feet and before the angel could even utter a single word to try and block the summoning, he was zapped away. 

~~

Crowley all but plunged to the ground, his arms wrapped around himself as he felt the signature of his beloved vanish from Earth. He tried to reach out in case it was a ward or a mistake that had caused this feeling, but no… nowhere he searched did he find a single trace of the angel he loved.

“Aziraphale!” He shouted desperately into the wind, “Where are you?!” he cried out. “My angel, I can’t find you!”

“N-Nanny?”

Crowley turned as tears slid freely down his pale cheeks. To his horror, he realized Adam was still standing there, staring at him, eyes wide with fear. With a herculean effort, Crowley pulled himself together.

“It’s all going to be okay, Adam, it’s okay, but listen to me now alright?”

The boy nodded, his own tears now running freely down his own cheeks as Crowley took the boy’s hands into his own.

“Whatever happens, I want you to remember something for me.”

“O-Okay…”

“I want you to remember that myself and Aziraphale love you very much, and that we love this world too. No matter where you come from or who you are or what you choose to do today, we will always love you. My little beast, my hellspawn.”

Adam cried out, burrowing into the demon’s chest and Crowley tried to wipe at his tears as he fought back his own immense sorrow. 

A lightning bolt nearby told Crowley the angels had arrived. A crack in the ground letting free a spray of molten lava told him Hell too was making their appearance. Both Nanny and ward continued to kneel there on the ground as they watched the two ethereal forces converge.

On Hell’s side, Beelzebub had arrived alone, their dark eyes locked on Crowley’s. From Heaven, Gabriel, Michael, and Uriel had appeared. And behind them, in the distance, Crowley could make out the four horsemen watching, waiting, and silent. 

“Well, well, well, the time has finally arrived,” Gabriel sneered at Beelzebub, “how truly wonderful. At long last we can destroy the forces of Hell.”

“You wizh,” Beelzebub snarled back, “We zhall deztroy the forzezzz of Heaven!”

The two bickered back and forth as Gabriel and Beelzebub drew closer to the two on the ground, neither really looking at the demon or the boy until they were only a couple feet from them.

“Kral,” Beelzebub eyed them after a moment’s silence, “Prinze of Hell turned traitor. Who would have guezzzed.”

“Prince of Hell?” Gabriel smirked, “you guys must have been desperate to make HIM a prince of hell.”

Beelzebub scowled at the Archangel. 

“Your father is coming, boy, it’s time to play your part,” Gabriel spoke to Adam.

“My dad?” Adam questioned, confused. He was thinking of Thaddeus.

“Your true father,” Beelzebub told him, “Lucifer, the Zzzatan, King of Hell.”

Adam looked frightened by her words, but also still very confused. He stepped closer to Crowley who wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders.   
“Satan is not my dad,” he said, as though his words should have been obvious.

The two ethereal forces stared at the kid before they began to laugh. 

“Of course, he is,” Gabriel chuckled.

“And he iz coming to reclaim you az zuch,” Beelzebub agreed with a cackle. 

Adam looked to Crowley who squeezed his shoulder in silent encouragement.

“Remember Adam, you are who you want to be, not who you were born to be.”

“Zilence traitor!” Beelzebub snarled, “We zhall zee if you are zo confident when Luzifer getz here!”

A great rumbling began to sound as the ground and sky began to split open. The war was about to begin.

“No!” Adam suddenly shouted, his eyes glowing. “No. I am Adam Warlock Dowling and I am not the son of Satan and I will not allow you to destroy the Earth. YOU CAN’T DO THIS AND I WON’T LET YOU DO IT!”

Suddenly the rumbling stopped. The sky closed back up and the ground reformed. Gabriel and the Archangels looked stunned, while Beelzebub seemed fearful at the blatant show of power. 

“This is your fault, demon!” Gabriel turned to Crowley, “What did you and Aziraphale do to him?!”

“They loved me!” Adam shouted back, “and that’s why Satan is not my father because he doesn’t love me like they do! My name is Adam Warlock Dowling and I am the son of Thaddeus and Harriet Dowling, human parents with a human son.”

“ARGHHHHHHHH!” a great shout split the bewildered silence, and all turned to stare at where a large red monster ripped from out of the ground.

Crowley groaned at the pressure, so much like Adam’s own, but this time he remained standing, eyes locked on the giant monstrous form of his brother. It looked a lot like the mythologies about Satan. Horned, red, and devilish. Nothing like the humanoid form that Crowley knew best. Then again, Luci had always been a dramatically inclined bastard, even before the Fall.

“He iz your father, acczept it,” Beelzebub spat at the boy.

Adam’s eyes were wide as they stared up at the monster, but he never moved. Never ran. If anything, he stepped that much closer to Crowley, not for his own comfort so much as to ensure his Nanny’s safety. He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt Nanny. Not again.

“MY SON…” Satan thundered.

“I am NOT your son,” Adam spat, “and you are NOT my father. My father is…”

“ARHGHHHH!” Satan shouted again, slamming his fists into the ground, and causing the Earth to quake. Adam trembled at the show of power but still refused to flee.  
The gentle and comforting touch of Crowley at his back gave him the strength and courage to remain standing there in defiance of whatever this monster wanted from him. 

“My father,” he continued once the monster silenced, “is Thaddeus Dowling, a human, and I am his HUMAN son.”

Satan blinked and then suddenly he vanished, and, in his place, reality having bent to the boy’s words, was Thaddeus Dowling looked extremely confused.

“Adam?” he called; his tone more than a little bewildered.

Adam blinked in surprise at the sight of his father standing at the far end of the tarmac. 

“Go,” Crowley whispered to him, “you have denied Heaven and Hell. Your free now Adam. You’re a human boy now. Go live your own life with your father and mother, and don’t look back little hellspawn.”

Adam started to go to his father only to stop and turn back towards Crowley, despite the demon’s words. 

“What about you?” he questioned. “What about Aziraphale?”

Crowley took a deep breath, shoulders set. He ignored the demon and angels watching them. 

“We can handle this,” he assured the boy. He would not allow Adam to see his fear. 

Adam however did not seem convinced by the ploy. “No, this isn’t fair, Nanny.”

He turned back to the demon and angels who hadn’t dared yet to move.

“You guys should leave; you’re not wanted here right now.”

Immediately, the demon and Archangels vanished. 

Adam turned back to Crowley. 

“I am still the anti-christ despite being human now, Nanny, at least for a little while longer.” He told the demon before focusing his powers, “I wish Aziraphale was here.”

And suddenly the angel was. 

Said angel seemed very disgruntled at suddenly being pulled from wherever it was he had been, but he was beyond pleased to look up and see Crowley and Adam standing safely before him.

“My darling,” he reached out to Crowley who smiled and hurriedly accepted the embrace, burrowing his face into the angel’s plush neck. 

Adam smiled as he watched them.

“My powers are fading, I can feel it,” he admitted to the two, “declining my nature will do that, I guess. I understand it now. I can sense the knowledge that has been buried beneath my human soul. I know what I am and who you both are. I knew it the moment I told Satan that he wasn’t my dad, as though it rushed in to give me a parting gift.”

Crowley frowned. “Adam…”

“It’s okay Nanny, I know why you both didn’t tell me the truth sooner,” he stepped forward and hugged the demon, “I know you love me despite having contemplated killing me. I remember now, when I was a baby, the demon who dropped me off at the convent. My uncle.”

Crowley caressed the boy’s cheek, speechless. 

“They won’t leave you alone,” Adam continued, “even if I sent them back again and again, they would only keep trying. They hate you now, most of them.”

“We can take them,” Crowley promised him.

“Together,” Aziraphale agreed, his hand resting on Crowley’s shoulder.

Adam smiled before turning from Aziraphale and then back to Crowley.

“You should tell him the truth, Uncle Crowley, about who you are before they come back,” he whispered into his Nanny’s ear as he hugged him again before turning to hug the angel. 

With a worried little smile, the small boy ran to his father who was waiting at a distance, very confused, and more than a little bothered to be suddenly standing in the middle of nowhere. 

Crowley turned to Aziraphale. 

“Listen, angel, before we have uninvited guests,” Crowley started, “I need to tell you something about me. You see, I… I’m not just an ordinary demon, I…”

The roar of an engine cut him off as they both turned towards the gates where a car with four humans sped across the tarmac and slid to a halt. 

“Sorry, we tried to get here as quick as we could,” Anathema spoke as she and the others climbed out, “did we miss it?”

“Oh no,” Aziraphale assured her, “our true fight is about to begin.”

In the distance, the four horsemen drew closer as Beelzebub and Lucifer appeared on the left and Gabriel with Michael appeared on the right. 

Crowley sighed. There went his opportunity, come hell and high water, he would just have to play this out. 

“It’s ruined, the entire war, and all because of you two,” the Archangel Gabriel scowled, his usual fake smile nowhere in sight. “Aziraphale, you may think yourself lucky to have escaped our summons, but you will not be so lucky here.”

“Kral, Kral, Kral,” Lucifer spoke up, his eyes glowing red as he leered at his Prince, both amused and annoyed in equal measures.

Kral stared right back at his brother. Neither said anything for a moment, both just basking in the knowledge that their time had finally come. That they were now enemies on a field of battle. That past grievances and rivalries would finally be put to rest.

“It’s finally that time, aye Lucifer?” the demon grinned, all sharp teeth and a serpent’s tongue. 

Lucifer also grinned, his eyes cold and his expression cutting. 

“Oh yes, finally little brother,” he agreed.

Aziraphale looked between the two of them. Beelzebub noticed his confusion.

“What do you think angel?” Beelzebub approached him, “do you think your little Zerpentine Princze haz any chancze againzt the ztrength of our King?”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. ‘Prince?’ 

Crowley grimaced at the look on his husband’s face. A look that said Crowley had a lot of explaining to do after this. 

“We brought az many demonzz as we could with uz,” Beelzebub sneered, “there are many who want a pieze of you, Kral. The traitorouzz Prince who ztopped the war.”

Behind them, several more demons began to materialize. Hastur, Ligur, Asmodeus, Azazel, Dagon, and several others Crowley recognized. High-level demons who were known to be challenging in a fight. 

“And many angels too,” Gabriel agreed, snapping.

Behind he and Michael, the other Archangels (whether they wanted to come or not) materialized. All of them, including the ones who had been against the idea of starting Armageddon. 

“Must we be witness to this?” one of them griped. 

Both Crowley and Aziraphale recognized it to be the Archangel Zadkiel and he looked less than pleased to be there. 

“Gabriel, it’s over,” another spoke up, this one recognized as Archangel Cassiel, “the anti-christ denied his birth and there is nothing to be gained from all of this.”

“Aziraphale is a traitor,” Gabriel argued, “we cannot allow this to go unpunished. Not anymore.”

“It’s all of us against all of you. What will you do now, Krawley,” Hastur mocked from the back of the lineup. 

The other demons laughed mockingly, and Crowley hissed in warning, causing many who had suffered discorporations by his hands over the years, to back up in fear as the Prince turned and caught their eyes with his serpentine ones. He ignored them all and turned instead to Lucifer who smiled in anticipation, knowing full well what was coming. 

“I call upon my right as Prince of Hell and Prince of Deceit, Lord Kral, the Architect of Original Sin, to challenge Lucifer, the King of Hell, in a one on one dual. Winner take all.”

Lucifer’s grin widened. 

“Crowley…” Aziraphale started.

“This is my fight, angel,” Crowley didn’t look at his husband, but he did squeeze the other’s hand before stepping away, “it was always going to be, whether we stopped Armageddon or not.”

Aziraphale didn’t say anything more as Crowley stepped past him and began to make his way towards Lucifer. 

Sighing, Aziraphale turned towards the Archangels. Shock ran through him when instead of Gabriel, he found himself face to face with Death.

“You’re a brave soul,” Death told him flatly, but his eyes, Aziraphale noticed within the hollows of his skull, were trained on Crowley. 

“Are you here to reap us afterwards?” Aziraphale asked him. 

Death regarded the Principality in silence for a moment. “We shall see, won’t we?”

“Azrael, step away,” Gabriel barked.

Azrael or Death as he is better known, turned to Gabriel with a look that chilled all those within the vicinity. 

“Are you ordering me, Gabriel?” Death asked flatly. 

“N-No, I just… we need to punish him, Azrael, and you… you shouldn’t get in the way…”

Aziraphale was surprised by how nervous Gabriel suddenly seemed, but Azrael just looked back at the other completely unimpressed. Aziraphale wondered if the other ever smiled or showed any emotion about anything. There was just no feeling behind the Archangel of Death’s eyes. No life, as it were. Yet he had the oddest impression that Azrael was worried about Crowley and that he found Gabriel to be quite annoying. How strange. 

“Now for the charges,” Gabriel called out, ignoring the fact that Lucifer and Crowley were staring one another down not far from him. “Heaven hereby charges Aziraphale, the former Cherub made current Principality and Former Guardian of the Easter Gate of Eden, with siding against the will of our Lord and stopping the Great Plan.”

“Great plan,” Aziraphale repeated, suddenly confused. “Or the ineffable one?”

“What?” Gabriel sneered.

“There are two plans. Which plan is this? Better yet, how do you know the Great plan is or is not the same as the ineffable one?”

The Archangel was stunned into silence.

“He makes a valid point,” another Archangel spoke up.

They both turn to see Raphael, the Archangel of Healing, “he is right, Gabriel. We have not heard the voice of our Mother in several millennia. How do you know this is her will?”

“If these are the charges heaven brings, why does Mother not Fell him Herself if he has gone against Her Will?” agreed Zadkiel. 

Gabriel could tell the others were becoming uncertain, even those who had agreed with him originally. Now even Michael and Uriel looked a bit skeptical.

“No! So perhaps we interpreted a bit, but it should be obvious, surely. I mean Mother…” Gabriel tried to argue. 

“Isn’t here,” Michael finally speaks. “She hasn’t been. Even Metatron admitted to this fact.”

“Yes okay, but…”

Michael shook his head, suddenly looking determined. 

“No Gabriel, perhaps Aziraphale is right. Perhaps Mother has granted all of us free will, and now that the Anti-christ has turned down his destiny, perhaps that too is a part of her plan. His freedom to choose his own path.”

“Free will? Really?” Gabriel barked, “your going to listen to all this bull-crap? Don’t you remember, Michael, hmm? Don’t you remember Jegudiel?”

Crowley flinched at the name, eyes wide as the name caught both his and Lucifer’s undivided attention. 

Michael stiffened and Aziraphale frowned at the sound of that name. 

“Do not,” Michael snapped, “bring our brother into this!”

“Brother?!” Gabriel laughed cynically, “that trash brother of ours, Fell! And it wasn’t only Heaven who Felled him, Michael. We can’t Fall people. Doesn’t that tell you that Mother Felled him because of that garbage he was spewing? That what he said wasn’t true.”

“Or maybe,” Crowley spoke up, a bite in his tone. “Mother Felled ME because I doubted Her due to you!”

Gabriel, Michael, Aziraphale and all the Archangels turned to the demon with open surprise. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale whispered, voice strained. It could be… 

“Well, well, Jegudiel in the demonic flesh,” Gabriel sneered, “I didn’t recognize you, but here you’ve been this entire time.”

Crowley snarled, but couldn’t help the flinch at the sound of his name again. It had been such a long time. So long since he had last heard it. 

“Brother…” Michael breathed, eyes wide.

“Don’t call me that!” Crowley snapped, “I am not your brother. Not anymore.”

Aziraphale felt his legs quiver. 

Crowley was the Archangel. Oh God. The Archangel who’d had his wings ripped to pieces as punishment before the masses in heaven. The one who’d had his halos shattered by angelic hands. The one who’d he heard about who had his eyes blinded and his tongue cut out because they had dared to look upon the angels around him and speak to them with his voices of lies. His Crowley had been the one who had suffered at the hands of heaven all those years ago. Who had spoken of nothing but love and forgiveness, of free will, and of God’s Grace in defense of the Fallen. 

“I believe in our Mother, but you!” Crowley shouted, pointing at Gabriel, “…you fed me your lies and in a time of hurt when I couldn’t help but consider the idea that Mother might have turned against me, that She wasn’t all knowing, that She was dead. That I was wrong to have Faith. I cried out and I cursed her name because of your betrayal towards me and the fear that surfaced during a time of torment. 

And I Fell because of my doubt in Her Will, but don’t think for a moment that I regret it,” He looked each angel in the eye. Each of his siblings. “I do not regret Falling. If anything, this ineffable plan of Hers, I am certain She brought me here in this moment for a purpose, because even as I Fell, I felt her Love shine within me and my Faith became that much stronger!”

“That is so like you!” Gabriel spat, “Jegudiel, Archangel of Fate! Did you see your own red strings leading you here? To me. To us! Or are you the one who is putting words and emotions in our Mother’s mouth. You, who were supposed to guide heaven and humanity, you who Fell to be less than what you were created to be. You expect us to believe that a demon has the Love of our Mother and the Faith of God within them, even now? Your insane, KRAL, you only are and ever will be, a demon.”

Crowley did not bat an eye at the harsh words.

“Perhaps, but then that is what Faith is, isn’t it?” He spoke, his tone sincere. “The ability to believe when you can’t see, when you don’t know the truth, and when all else fails you in your time of need. Faith is believing without knowing, Gabriel. I believe she has a Will for my life. Do you believe the same for your own? Or is everything you choose to do, based upon your own hate and heavenly ‘obligations’?”

Gabriel scowled, but the other Archangels nodded in agreement with his words. 

“This is all so very touching,” Lucifer spoke up sarcastically, “truly, wonderful, happy, family reunion for all of us siblings, but can we please get back to the point of this little meet and greet? Kral, I care not about the part you played in stopping this war. We both knew this day would come at some point. You have been a thorn in my side, but a useful one. Shame, your usefulness has now ended as I finally cement myself upon my great black throne.”

Crowley scoffed, hissing as he turned back to ‘his’ king. 

“Alwaysssss talking but you never practicccce what you preach, brother. All thosssse doubtssss you ssssewed in heaven, questing Mother and her plansss. Are you sssstill but a pawn in Her game Lucifer, or do you have free will to change how it isss that you will be regarded? How She ssssaysss you will be regarded?”

Lucifer snarled angry. Kral had struck home with his words, and suddenly Lucifer wasn’t Lucifer anymore, but Satan again, but this time he was different. Not the horned monster from before with Adam, but a seven headed hydra, who looked down upon the serpent with obvious scorn. 

“So be it, Snake,” the voice of Satan crackled, his red scales glinting dangerously as his leather wings flapped, and he soared up into the sky. 

Crowley too suddenly changed, leaving the angels to their internal conflict. The little snake tattoo on the side of his head burst into a black pillar of smoke and suddenly Kral was no longer in his humanoid form. In fact, he took on not his demonic form, but his true fallen form. His TRUE SELF. 

The last time he had ever dared to take on such a form, it had been right after the Fall when he had crawled out of the pools of sulfur down below. It was as he raised ruined yellow eyes in the dark and saw the monstrosities waiting before him. It was when Jegudiel died and Kral was reborn, slaughtering countless demons who had dared to attack him.

Back then, he hadn’t remembered exactly what had happened, what with the shock of it all. He had burned as he fell, his entire angelic essence being ripped apart, his wings already shredded, ripped further, and his already shattered halo bursting into a hundred smaller pieces. Blood had filled his mouth after heaven cut out his tongue and so as he Fell, it was open in a silent scream as bones snapped, muscles spasmed, nerve endings lit up, and what skin melted. 

It was so much. Too much at the time. He couldn’t remember blacking out, but he remembered the pain of burning and melting as hellfire claimed him and birthed him anew within the pools. Not all Fallen Angels survived the experience, but Jegudiel had been an Archangel and he was strong. Kral, for all his broken pieces, was even stronger. He had to be in order to survive. 

When the first demons had come to him back then to try and claim him as their own. To make him kneel and bow before their demonic might, he had reacted on instinct and ripped them apart, killing all who would dare to threaten him. It took a while for the bloodlust to dim. And when it did, he had been horrified by his own actions and yet, he couldn’t seem to stop. Was unable to lest he risk his own destruction, and so he slaughtered his way up the hierarchy until finally he reached the tippy top of Hell, to the side of Lucifer. To the brother he once loved. To the brother who he knew, one day, he would be destined to defeat. He didn’t know why he knew that, but deep down, both brothers had known upon reuniting, that every moment had been counting down to today. 

And so here he is, nearly seven thousand years since his Fall, and fate finally was demanding recompence. The Archangel of Fate could no longer deny his own destiny, and as Lucifer took on a beastly monstrous seven headed form to try and prove his grandeur, Kral did what Lucifer would never be able to do. He shed himself of the corporate and of the demonic and took on what he truly was at the very core of his essence. 

Lucifer, a being once known as the Morningstar, the most beautiful of all angels. He would never be able to face who he truly was within. Not ever. Because he feared what his own actions had reaped. He feared who he had become. But Kral, for all he regretted doubting his Mother back then, he knew deep down, he would never have been happy in Heaven. Falling, though not at all pleasant, was but a means to an end. An end he had long since come to terms with. 

And so, he let it go. He let his corporate form fade and instead of a gangly red haired, pale skinned man. Instead of the serpent of Eden which was his demonic form. In their place was his true being, his true self. The very core and heart of who he is. And it wasn’t pure. It wasn’t holy, but to Aziraphale who watched from afar, the angel thought it absolutely spellbinding. Kral, Crowley, whoever his partner is or was, Aziraphale stared upon the true form of his beloved husband, and only felt absolute awe.


	37. Fight for Armageddon, Fight for Free Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle continues...

A creature with six wings that were as dark and deep as a black hole, now stood before the demons and the angels. A creature who has three heads side by side of one another, each of a different shape and yet oh so familiar. The middle head was humanoid, not unlike his usual appearance. The head on the left was that of a serpent, and the head on the right was that of a raven. 

All six of their eyes were a shining golden glow, burning with intensity and power. Their red hair that fell from the humanoid head, nearly reaching their waist, was the color of a burning flame, flickering with actual sparks of hellfire and traces of what all in attendance were shocked to see, could only be glimmers of holy light. 

Their skin, pale and hairless down the middle of their sexless form, glittered with what could only be stars interwoven like freckles. On their left side, their body was covered in the darkest of scales, black and red fading into the middle to meet the pale star-lit skin. On the right side, their body was covered in short downy black feathers, once more, fading into pale skin down the middle. Long, immaculate black talons sprouted from each finger and toe. Razor sharp and shimmering, promising pain to any who might reap their ire. 

From the creature’s backside, just beneath the lowest set of raven-black razor sharp wings, a long and winding serpent’s tail stretching nearly twenty feet out from the creature, adorned with black and red scales, but also glittering with a beautiful glazed shine giving it the appearance of polished glass, could be seen. Each scale upon that tail was raised to a fine point, making the tail just as deadly as the creature’s claws. And from the serpent’s mouth, long and pronounced sharpened canines could be seen, glistening with venom. 

The raven, its beak a sharp gold could also be seen to house several smaller sharpened teeth. And the humanoid head, two fangs that would remind any human of a vampire, were widely displayed in a tactic to intimidate and cause fear for their opponent (or annoying bookshop customers). And just above the humanoid’s head, a broken shattered halo could be seen, still there, still glowing despite that its holy essence was gone. Instead, a fiery red glimmer of extreme heat and particles of ash had formed in its place. A permanent illusion of what had once been lost and what could never be reclaimed. 

But lastly and most importantly, swirling around this giant glowing figure, who seemed to radiate with ethereal light, was an unmistakable wreath of hellfire. It swirled up and around, casting shadows and smoke, making the creature’s appearance that much more terrifying and yet that much more glorious. The golden light of heaven that comes from their inner Grace and the hellfire, seemed to work in harmony to protect the figure bathed within, and all who peered at the creature squinted, unable to stare directly at it without a major case of sunspots. 

~~

Aziraphale stared at the scene in silence. He took in the beauty and majesty of his partner’s full true Fallen form and he wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry, he wanted… he wanted to hold them, because he could see it, though he doubted any of the others could. He could see the nearly subtle tremor in the figure’s long scaled and feathery clawed appendages. He could see the tightening of the figures hands as it sank talons into hardened flesh in an effort to calm their raging emotions. He could see the pain and the hurt, the self-loathing, and the determination and the bravery behind burning golden eyes. He could see the feelings his dearest darling was attempting to hide. This form, his true fallen form, despite its beauty, Aziraphale knew, this form was but a relic of what Crowley had once been and he had no doubt in his mind that being that form was hurting his beloved greatly. 

‘Please my darling, be safe’ he prayed desperately to any who might be listening. ‘God, Mother, protect them, I beg of you’. 

“Beasts are what they are, Aziraphale, can you see that now?” The Archangel Gabriel spat. “Monsters, both of them, and you should Fall to be amongst them, for you are no better.”

Gabriel was all alone where he stood while saying these cruel words, eyes burning with rage and hate. No other Archangels stood with him. Gabriel had gone too far. It could no longer be denied. 

Noticing he was all alone after a moment of silence, Gabriel turned and beckoned his siblings forward to join him, but none came.

“Sorry brother,” Michael spoke at a distance, “but I will not make the same mistake again. If this is Her will, then let Her be the one to cast him down. I will not have a hand in it.”

Michael turned and spied out the three headed figure who was having a hissing match with Lucifer. 

“I already lost too much by allowing my personal feelings to rule my actions. God is love, and I believe Jegudiel had been right all along. God granted us the ability to show mercy, to have free will to make our own choices, and as Aziraphale has stated, She thus granted us the ability to decide for ourselves when we should forgive others and when we should not.” 

Gabriel looked outraged and waved his words off, unwilling to hear them. 

“Fine, then I will do this on my own!” Gabriel snarled and started towards Aziraphale, but to the Principalities and Archangel’s surprise, War stepped between them, blocking the Archangel, and presenting Aziraphale with a sword. A very familiar sword.

The angel gasped. “This is…”

“Yeah, use it wisely, Principality,” War spoke with a cheeky grin, and then the four horsemen vanished from the area just as Gabriel, now with his own summoned weapon, slammed into Aziraphale with deadly intent. 

~~

Kral struck quick and true, venom flying as he spat into the eyes of his enemy; already one hydra head was down for the count, but six still remained. The thing about Kral’s true form was that he was lithe, flexible, and fast despite the bulk. He could be in and out of a spot within a second, already moving around to the next place of attack before Lucifer could even attempt to strike him in turn. 

Five heads remaining.

The problem was that he wasn’t very powerful when it comes to overall strength, unlike Lucifer whose entire corporal demonic form was centered around the attributes involving power, strength, and deception. With a feint, the hydra would draw Kral one way only to attack from another. They were two very intelligent beings who were also extremely powerful and they both knew each other well, almost too well. It made landing an attack next to impossible. Brother vs Brother, Fallen vs. Fallen. No different in the grand scheme of things and yet both couldn’t be more dissimilar if they tried. 

“Stand. Still. Kral. And. let. Me. put. You. Out. Of. Your. Miserable. Existence. Once. And. For. All!” Lucifer spat from his mouths, voices echoing. Deep and demonic. 

“You firssssst,” Kral’s serpentine head hissed, dodging yet another attack.

It was becoming more difficult. Whereas Kral had started on the offensive, now things had turned, and he was defending himself again and again as each blast of hellfire and teeth attempted to rip into the heart of his being. Another attack, another dodge, a feint, another dodge, and so on it continued, but Kral never gave ground. 

Four heads remained for Lucifer. 

Kral tried desperately to turn the tide, but he needed something to cause a distraction. Something to take the focus off himself, even if just for a single moment. Glancing around, his first thought was of the Archangels. He could see them out of his peripheral vision. None were attacking Aziraphale, thank God, none except Gabriel anyways, and luckily Aziraphale seemed to be holding his own. Wait-- is that THE flaming sword?!

“Your. Distracted. Kral,” Lucifer sneered and attacked.

The Prince of Hell dodged but didn’t get himself completely out of the way in time, his right top wing was caught by a claw, ripping through the base of it. Kral screamed out in pain as black ichor began to stream from the wound, but he tried to imagine the pain wasn’t bad, wasn’t there, and his imagination was quite fierce when it needed to be. 

“You. know,” Lucifer cackled as they fought, “I. should. Have. destroyed. You. That. First. day.   
I. knew. You. When. You. Fell, and. I. knew. You. hadn’t. agreed. With. Us. up. In. heaven.   
That. You. weren’t. really. One. of. us. I. should. Have. just. Snuffed. You. Out. then. before. The. Hellfire. Birthed. You. anew.   
Sweet, poor. Little. Jegudiel, betrayed. By. Heaven. For. Following. The. Word. of. God.   
Betrayed. By. His. Own. self-conscious, causing. Him. To. Fall. And. Doubt. In. God.   
It. was. Your. Fear. And. Weakness. That. Caused. that, brother, just. as. it. will. be. Your. fear. And. Weakness. That. Shall. End. You. now.”

“Ssssshut up!” Kral hissed, tossing a wave of power at Lucifer that he happily watched burn across the hydra’s left side.

Lucifer reared up at the pain but continued attacking heedless of Kral’s damage against him.

Kral ducked and spun beneath a razor-sharp leather wing and came up behind, hissing and spitting as his venom caught the eye of one of the remaining heads before he followed through with a slash of his tail to cut the head off completely.

Three remained. Three more heads of the hydra. 

The humans! Suddenly Kral knew exactly where to find his distraction. He dove, heading for the four who remained watching the display from a distance. He would never purposefully place them in danger, but he needed just a single moment to change the tide.

Luckily the four seemed to pick up on his intent and Kral watched with a grin as Shadwell raised his gun and fired, striking the hydra in one of his three remaining heads. One down, two to go. 

Suddenly Lucifer roared and shifted, and the two became one. The transformation also made Lucifer’s body smaller and lighter than his previous demonic corporation, which therein made him harder to track. Kral didn’t slow down though as he went after the, slightly-bigger-then-his-own-form, brother. He dodged another harsh reign of hellfire, but both could play at that game. Lucifer hissed as Kral’s own burning pyre seared his leather wings and Kral was able to dig some talons into Lucifer’s snout. 

The hydra, now more of a dragon, roared with fury and pain, twisting as he forcefully ejected Kral from his person. 

“Give it up, Kral,” Lucifer snarled, “all that is left for you is death. Hell won’t forget your part in all of this. Hell won’t ever forgive. And Heaven is so messed up, there will always be another take Gabriel’s place should his plan to start the apocalypse fails. You only live to die another day, brother. Allow me to put you out of your misery sooner.”

“Never,” Kral snarled, the two reptiles locking eyes from a distance. “I will end this once and for all, Lucifer. Come at me with everything you have or else be destroyed here and now.”

Lucifer roared and Kral hissed as both beings, their forms surrounded by demonic flames and unholy shadow, raced towards one another. 

Razor sharp teeth bit into Kral’s right shoulder and dragon-like claws tore through Kral’s already injured wings, and Kral’s three headed form hissed and shouted in pain, his muscles screaming as he felt his body begin plummeting towards the ground, unable to take the added weight of Lucifer who had buried his talons and fangs deep into Kral’s essence.

Lucifer didn’t let up either. He all but ripped and gnawed as he tried to tear out the throats of each of Kral’s three heads, one by one. Even as his own form fell, Lucifer was determined not to let go without getting his fill of blood, and the former Prince of Hell used this to his advantage. With an otherworldly surge of absolute willpower, the three headed figure ignored the pain and bleeding throat of his raven head, and lifted his tail and legs, wrapping them around the draconic demon form of his brother, securing Lucifer in place. 

“What are you doing?!” Lucifer growled, twisting to try and break free, even as his teeth bit down harder and Kral felt the bones in the throat of his raven head splinter.   
Kral did not let go. If anything, he constricted himself further around Lucifer, squeezing harder and tighter, feeling the draconic being’s own bones begin to bend under the strength of his serpentine hold.

Closing his eyes and ignoring his former brother and King who now screamed in rage and fear, Kral made certain to stay above Lucifer’s form as the ground rushed up to meet them, using the dragon’s body as buffer for his own. Because if Kral died, he was going to make certain that Lucifer died with him. No regrets.

~~

Aziraphale parried blow after blow, but Gabriel just kept coming. Unrelenting with the weight and force of his own divine weapon. For all that Aziraphale was a warrior once upon a time, it had been six millennia since he had fought anyone. And even if it hadn’t been, Aziraphale’s power was still only that of a principality, as he had been bound by heaven. 

Gabriel, however, is an Archangel. 

And so, it was unsurprising to all who were in witness that Aziraphale seemed to be losing. Gabriel was clearly just too strong. 

It all changed in an instant though when a terrible cry shook the heavens. Both angels snapped their gaze to where Lucifer and Kral had been fighting and both watched in a sort of detached way as the three headed figure and a large black dragon fell to the ground. The impact sent ripples of power through the surrounding area from the force of their fall, and every single spectator there found themselves on the ground as an Earthquake spread out in each direction for miles around.

Where they had fallen, a deep crater now sat, debris and smoke rising from out of the hole. Aziraphale was running, sword in hand, before he had even thought his reaction through. He just knew he needed to find Crowley.

Kneeling at the edge, Aziraphale stared down into the crater and could barely see beyond the smoke and dust. If he was surprised that Gabriel had come up to stand near him without attempting a surprise attack, he did not show it. Instead, he allowed himself to lean forward, trying unsuccessfully to see beyond the destruction. To hope for a sign of his beloveds’ survival. 

“Crowley!” he shouted down into the hole. 

Silence was all anyone could hear. The demons and the angels both surrounded the crater, peering down. 

“He’s dead,” Gabriel spoke, eyes locked on the dark depths of the crater. “Both of them are.”

Aziraphale ignored the Archangel.

“Crowley, please! Can you hear me?! Crowley!”

Gabriel turned cold eyes onto the Principality, but before he could speak a word, a hiss could be heard at the very deepest depths. Both angels were silent as the sound of rocks being dislodged within indicated to them that someone was attempting to crawl up from down below. Both angels backed up and stared in equal parts horror and awe as Lucifer climbed out of the darkness. 

His body was ravaged. The draconic figure from before, so big and threatening was now gone, leaving only his humanoid self behind. Bones could be seen peeking through jagged skin. His jaw was dislocated, and his eyes were a nasty bloody unseeing white. This creature, the former King of Hell, was but a raggedy old shell of who he once was. It took very little divine energy to see that the essence of Lucifer was fading. That the King of Hell was all but dead now, as the pitiful once-powerful-demon-king now whined and snarled and hissed with the pain. 

“L-Luzzzifer,” Beelzebub whispered with horror before running to his side. 

The wrecked form heaved a great sigh as it collapsed into a heap, not at all caring about the angels and demons surrounding him. If he even could tell that they were there, that is. The creature was all but blind now and very near death. Aziraphale wouldn’t be surprised if Lucifer weren’t even aware of Beelzebub herself as she knelt and surprisingly, almost kindly, ran her fingers through the other’s black hair. 

Turning his attention away from the former Morningstar, Aziraphale looked back down into the crater. He thrust his senses deep down into the dark of the abyss and with a wet sob of relief, he found it, the weakened familiar signature of Crowley. Unconscious and badly injured, but alive. Aziraphale was about to slide into the crater to retrieve his darling love, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. 

Startled, he flinched back, looking up into the surprisingly apologetic face of Uriel. 

“Wait,” was all she said.

Aziraphale was about to argue, but at that moment, a white robed figure dove down into the darkness, and Aziraphale watched with bated breath as several seconds later, Michael flew out of the pit, and in his arms was a familiar humanoid body. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered, quickly getting to his feet as he sprinted the short distance between the crater and his husband. 

Kneeling upon the hard ground of the tarmac, Aziraphale gently ran a soothing hand over the pale cheek of his partner. Crowley was breathing, he was alive, but Aziraphale could see he was badly injured. Blood stained his throat where a deep wound now lay, and the top of his bare chest was covered in wounds that ran jagged and were still openly bleeding. The top of Crowley’s left ear had been torn off, leaving behind a ragged and bleeding nub and his right wings were broken in multiple places and ripped in others. His lips were punctured by his own fangs during the fall, and his abdomen sported a deep, wide gash that stretched from left hip to nearly the top of his right rib cage. His breathing was also shallow and rough, hinting at possible internal injuries yet unseen. 

Desperately, Aziraphale poured as much energy into his love, but injures made by ethereal powers were hard to heal. The smaller injuries caused by the plummet vanished entirely, but those left by Lucifer remained open and raw, heavily bleeding. 

“Jegudiel,” Michael whispered, almost cradling the body. 

His face spoke of heavy torment and sorrowful regret. His eyes, wet with guilt and growing horror. Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to forgive them. He could remember what he had been told about the so called ‘trial’ of the banished Archangel thousands of years ago. About how they paraded him in front of the heavenly host, how they tortured him, broke his halo, blinded his eyes, and cut out his tongue. No, he would never be able to forgive them, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t understand that they were haunted by the part they played in his punishment back then. That they regretted it. 

Aziraphale remembered Michael stopping Gabriel who had wanted to do the same thing to him. He remembered the look he’d sported even back then. A look of deep haunting, made entirely of self-disgust, rage, and grief. No, he couldn’t forgive nor forget the part he played, but he could accept that Michael was at least trying. 

Aziraphale took Crowley’s naked pale form from their arms, quickly snapping into existence a simple blanket to wrap him in as he cradled him close, wary as Gabriel approached them. Michael and Uriel surprisingly stepped between them and the looming Archangel. 

“It’s over, Gabriel,” Michael spoke, “Lucifer…” he eyed where his other brother now lay, silently dying. “Lucifer is done, and Hell is no longer in a position to wage war. Heaven…” they eyed Aziraphale and Crowley, “Heaven will withdraw.”

“What?!” The Archangel spat in outrage, “We are meant to have the Armageddon, and these two!” he waved at Aziraphale and Crowley, “they cannot go unpunished.”

“Hell will also withdraw,” Beelzebub spoke up, before their eyes flitted to Crowley who now laid motionless upon the hard cement ground. “At least until we know for sure the will of our new King.”

Gabriel gawked.

Beelzebub sneered. 

“Kral was a Prince of Hell, but defeating Lucifer rightfully makes him the King of Hell. I will abide by this rule of law. I will now follow the will of our new King, whatever that shall be, and I know for certain it would not be for Hell to remain a part of this War.”

Beelzebub peered down at Lucifer with mourning. “Lucifer is dying. Hell no longer wishes to fight.”

Michael did not move as Gabriel snarled in his oldest brother’s face, but the fire behind Archangel of Justice’s eyes spoke of punishment if this behavior continued.

“You have ignored the obvious will of our Mother, Gabriel. You will no longer be free to do as you wish. Limits must be set. You have gone too far.”

Gabriel looked frightened for the only the second time that Aziraphale had ever seen, and with a snap of Michael’s fingers, Gabriel vanished back to heaven. Banished from the Earth. Uriel, Sandalphon, and several others followed, until only Michael and who Aziraphale recognized to be Raphael and Zadkiel, remained. 

“I am a healer,” Raphael spoke as he knelt beside Crowley. “I may be able to help. Do you mind if I attempt to heal him?”

Aziraphale, shocked by all that had just occurred before his eyes, could only choke out a desperate, “Please,” as the Archangel of Healing knelt beside them on the hard ground and peered down at the demon with sad eyes. 

“Hello again little brother,” Raphael whispered, “I am sorry I was unable to protect you for a second time.”

With hands placed upon Crowley’s chest, he turned to Zadkiel. 

“Brother, go to Lucifer.”

Zadkiel did not hesitate, kneeling beside the fallen former King of Hell. With concentration, both Archangels specializing in healing energies released their full powers onto the demons. It was only a minute more that Raphael gasped and opened his eyes with a look of near revelation. 

“This is impossible,” Raphael choked, “Jegudiel, he is…”

The Archangel stared down at Crowley and Aziraphale fidgeted, unconsciously drawing the demon closer to his chest.

“W-What is it?” he questioned.

“He’s not Fallen,” the Archangel whispered, before suddenly shaking his head as though to erase his own words. “I mean, he is, but… I can feel Grace in him. Heavenly, divine Grace. His own, not unlike what he had before he Fell from Heaven.”

“Indeed,” Zadkiel spoke up, eyebrows furrowed from where he sat with Lucifer. “Lucifer was burned by holy light. I can feel it even now. It is definitely from Jegudiel.”

“Ineffable,” Aziraphale whispers. “Crowley has always been… ineffable. Different. Unknown. Unlike any other demon in Hell.”

“Unlike any angel as well,” agreed Michael from where he stood several feet away.

“He izz a King,” Beelzebub spat, as though that explained everything. Perhaps for demons, it did.

“He is beloved by God,” Michael spoke over them. “Jegudiel, the laudation of God, or better translated as the Lord’s Pride, an invaluable honor and a very singular title. I never understood what it meant, but perhaps Aziraphale is right. Perhaps all along, God had a plan for him that we were never meant to understand. Could never understand.”

“God’s invaluable Pride,” Aziraphale, sighed. “The name Anthony makes so much more sense now. A variation of his original true name, a name meaning Priceless.”

“Technically, Crowley means hunch backed,” a soft voice whispered.

Aziraphale blinked and stared down in delighted wonder to see yellow-amber serpentine eyes gazing up at him. 

“Oh, Oh Crowley,” he hugged the demon (half demon?) to his chest. 

“Crowley, hunch back, because you know… snakes don’t really have spines. I do tend to swagger a bit and hunch down when I collapse into chairs. Not that I thought of that when I chose the name of course. Technically I guess I should be called Raven, but-”

Crowley was cut off as Aziraphale’s lips suddenly claimed his own, chaste yet filled to the brim with a dozen different emotions. Gratitude, love, adoration, sorrow, fear… so many that Aziraphale himself couldn’t explain. 

“Seems the healing worked. I couldn’t completely remove the wounds. You will be left with some tender scars, but you won’t die,” Zadkiel spoke from afar. 

Crowley turned his eyes to the Archangel.

“Lucifer, is he…”

“Alive,” Zadkiel confirmed and Crowley breathed out a breath of relief. 

While he had been completely prepared to kill himself and his brother to protect the Earth, he didn’t take pleasure in such violence and especially not against his own family, no matter how evil they now were. 

“Jegudiel…”

Crowley turned to Raphael who quickly launched himself into the other’s arms. Crowley grunted, but wrapped his hands around the back of his brother. Of all the siblings, he and Raphael had always been the closest. The day Heaven held their ‘trial’, Raphael and Zadkiel had been away at the time. He knew looking back, that had they been there they would have tried to defend him. It was probably best they were gone; else they probably would have Fallen along with him. 

“Hello again, Jed,” Raphael whispered with a choked sob.

Crowley hissed a bit at the pain as he moved to sit up, his back supported by Aziraphale’s chest as the angel’s arms wrapped around him, protective and loving. Warm. He pressed his nose into the crook of Raphael’s throat. 

“I go by Crowley now.”

“Crowley,” Raphael spoke the name, smiling as he drew back with a slight sniffle. “It’s nice, but I do agree with Aziraphale. Anthony, perhaps, suits you better.”

The half demon snorted. “I’ll think about it.”

Raphael and Zadkiel stepped back from the two demons as Michael stepped forward. The Archangel of Justice knelt by Jegudiel and peered into his serpentine eyes.  
“Still as beautiful as ever, brother,” they spoke, “I am sorry. I understand that I do not deserve forgiveness in the part I played seven millennia ago when you Fell, but I want you to know I regret it completely. We were cruel to you. We were… we were no better than the demons themselves, and I know that now.”

Crowley was silent, studying Michael for a moment before speaking. 

“I can’t forgive you, Michael,” he sighed, “I just… I can’t right now. Maybe one day, but you not only hurt me, you were going to hurt Aziraphale and destroy the Earth, and I refuse to forget everything heaven has done in that regard.”

“I understand,” the Archangel nodded. “You are the King of Hell now, brother. What will you do?”

Crowley frowned and turned to look at Lucifer who was now awake, his eyes open, silent, as he stared up at the cloudy sky as though only now having noticed it existed. 

“I want to change things. Hell is still Hell, it won’t ever be good, but… it doesn’t have to be cruel to its own inhabitants. I want to organize and… I want demons to have the opportunity to experience Earth, to live amongst humans, and to speak with their angelic counterparts. Demons deserve love and a chance at redemption. Don’t you think?”

Michael stared at their brother. They had never agreed with him, but perhaps… he had a point. Perhaps even demons could change, if given the opportunity. It was at least worth pondering. 

“I will consider it,” he said and decided to leave it at that. 

Crowley gave them a gentle smile as he sighed and leaned back into Aziraphale’s hold. 

“Aziraphale,” Michael spoke.

The Principality turned to them, his hands pulling Crowley a touch closer in response. 

“I also owe you an apology as well,” Michael said, “and on behalf of heaven, I would like to reinstate your former ranking and all the abilities that come with that ranking, as a Cherub of Heaven.”

Aziraphale was speechless and Crowley snickered.

“I think you broke him, brother,” Crowley laughed.

Michael felt a rush of affection at being called brother once more by the one she had deemed lost. 

“I… thank you,” Aziraphale finally managed.

“I would also consider giving you a new position within my army, but,” she eyed Crowley, “I assume you are happy here on Earth. Am I wrong?”

“N-No, I mean, Yes, on Earth, P-Please.”

“Very well. Aziraphale, Cherub of Heaven and Guardian of Earth, I bid you farewell. Continue to work on God’s behalf to bless and protect the humans, as she would have you do. And…” she smiled as she locked eyes with Crowley, “…work as Heaven’s Ambassador to Hell’s new King.”

Aziraphale could only gawk as Michael stood up and stepped back with Raphael and Zadkiel at his side.

“We will be in touch,” and with those words, they vanished back to Heaven.

“Well, congrats on the promotion Aziraphale,” Crowley snickered.

Aziraphale pushed at him gently. “Oh, silence you.”

“Kral.”

Crowley turned, his laughter vanishing as his entire focus moved from his husband to his brother. With a groan, Crowley half crawled, half dragged himself to Lucifer’s side. Aziraphale attempted to help, but Crowley waved him off. 

“Kral,” Lucifer repeated. 

Crowley could see Lucifer, despite having been healed, was much, much weaker. He would probably gain back some strength given time, but his essence, his true self, had been horribly mangled. He would never be as powerful as he once was. 

“Luci,” Kral spoke. “I’m glad you didn’t die.”

Lucifer scoffed, but a small nervous smile splashed across his face. 

“I would not have been as pleased had you survived my own attacks against you,” Lucifer told him, “and for that, brother, I am sorry. I… I can see now that you were right. I have always played into what I thought Mother wanted. I never made my own choices. Despite being the one who questioned and demanded free will, I never understood that through Falling, I had been granted exactly what I had asked for.”

“Lucifer…”

“No. No. You were right, Kral. And now, you are King of Hell.”

Crowley groaned and Lucifer smirked. Beelzebub watched them both in silence. The three never once paying any attention to the demons who still stood around, completely bewildered by all that had happened. 

“I don’t really want to be King,” Crowley admitted, “I never wanted your throne, but things can’t stay the way they are. And that’s why…” he took a deep breath, “I want to make a deal with you.”

Lucifer eyed his brother curiously. 

“A deal with the devil, is it?” Lucifer snarked. 

Crowley mockingly narrowed his eyes at him. 

“Indeed. How would you feel brother, about co-kingship?”

Lucifer was silent.

“Me and you?”

“Well, I was thinking me, you, and…” he looked to Beelzebub, “one other.”

“M-Me?” Beelzebub stared, wide eyed.

“Why not?” Crowley shrugged, pulling the blanket a little more firmly around his waist. “You basically run most everything anyways. Lucifer can handle the more complicated affairs and I can handle celestial diplomacy and advise on any surface assignments.”

“So you were serious then?” Lucifer questioned, “you want Hell to co-exist with Heaven?”

“Yes,” Crowley spoke, “but more than that. I want both sides to co-exist with humans as well. God made us with free will. We can’t force anyone to get along, but She made us to help the humans better navigate their own independence. If Hell and Heaven can learn to appreciate Earth, perhaps then demons and angels will better understand Her and Her Will for us.”

The two were silent, thoughtful. 

“It iz an inzane theory,” Beelzebub told him, eyes narrowed, “but, inzane is our zpecialty.”

Crowley grinned, looking to Lucifer who studied his brother curiously. 

“Is Earth what has made you so happy?”

“Well, it and one other,” Crowley smiled, turning to Aziraphale who smiled back. 

Lucifer looked at the angel for a moment before letting lose a heavy exhale. 

“Alright Kral, it’s a deal. Co-Kingship. One down below, one up above, and perhaps… one in the middle.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh?”

“I would like to see what it is about Earth that makes you so willing to fight for it,” Lucifer admits, “perhaps I too, might explore the surface world for a time.”

“I don’t mind,” Beelzebub shrugged, “I can keep the demonzz in line while you’re away. And if we have any zzurface mizzionzz, I know who to zend them to zhould I need azziztance,” She gestured at Crowley. 

“Well, co-king ship sounds fun and all, but even between us we need a hierarchy, don’t we?”

“Do we?” Crowley shrugged, “I mean the humans don’t. Most of them have a democracy.”

Lucifer scoffed. “Like the Dark Council?”

“The council… is… yeah, kind of, but perhaps choose your members more wisely,” Crowley snickered, “for instance maybe consider replacing Alistair who is torture-hungry with someone more willing to consider a variety of punishments.”

Lucifer hummed.

“Or, we could perhaps, let humans form their own punishments.”

The two stared at the demon.

“I’ll be honest, most of my commendations were fudged.”

“I knew it,” Beelzebub huffed.

Crowley just smirked. “Humans are plenty evil on their own. They very rarely need us. If anything, I just offer them a suggestion and they make their own choice. That is why we are here upon this Earth. Free choice is for everyone and that’s the part we should play.”

“Tempt them into knowing their own choices…” Lucifer hummed.

“Yes, and perhaps,” Crowley turned to look at Aziraphale, “have them form an arrangement with an angelic counterpart. Someone who can… balance things.”

Aziraphale smiled knowingly. 

“Balance,” Beelzebub repeated. “Like you balanced the anti-christ.”

“Exactly,” Crowley grinned, his eyes flashing. “think about it. We three will lead by example, but we can lead Hell in a new direction, one ran by the majority to better the environment downstairs, to perhaps given proper reward for successful temptations, and maybe… we set up a realm where humans use their own creative imaginations to form their own punishments. An eternity trapped in a torture of their own making. Guilt for having sinned.”

“Brilliant,” Beelzebub breathed in awe.

“I would like to get started on that right away,” Lucifer nodded, “Kral…” he glanced at the angel, “I assume you would prefer staying on the surface full time then?”

“A king above,” Crowley nodded, “a king below,” he gestured to Beelzebub, “and, a king in the middle.”

Lucifer smiled. 

“You wouldn’t mind if I came visited then, once in a while.”

Crowley scowled. “As long as you warn me your coming. My angel and I…” he winked at Aziraphale who blushed, “we have plans.”

Lucifer snorted and Beelzebub gagged. 

“You might consider the United States brother, if you ever decide to go on that ‘vacation’ of yours and explore the surface world. You might like it. Seems a very ‘you’ place.”

Lucifer hummed. “Perhaps, once I’ve recovered.”

Kral nodded, grimacing as he shifted. His own injuries had been mostly healed as well, but like Lucifer’s they would scar permanently. 

Lucifer eyed the jagged markings on his brother’s throat and took in the long thin scar stretched across the other’s abdomen. 

“I am sorry, Kral. I’m sorry I didn’t open my eyes to the possibilities we could have had much sooner, had I just been willing to hear you out.”

“We all learned a lot this past seven thousand years, Lucifer. Even if I had spoken to you as your brother when I first Fell, what I have to say now may not have been the same words I could have said then. I was hurt, betrayed… now, well… it just doesn’t matter as much now.”

“WAIT A SECOND!” a voice shouted. “DOES THIS MEAN THIS TRAITOR IS NOW OUR KING?!”

All three turned to Hastur who stomped forward to the front of the hoard of demons. Ligur by his side.

“Yezz,” Beelzebub snarled, “From here on out, Luzifer, Kral, and Myzelf shall be your Kings. ANYONE GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT?!”

All the demons vigorously shook their heads before Beelzebub turned back to Hastur who did not look pleased.

“Problem, Duke?” Lucifer questioned him; red eyes glowing. 

Hastur scowled. “No. Nothing.”

“Good, didn’t think so,” Lucifer snipped, flinching when he moved wrong.

“You need to rezt back in Hell and let the Hellfire heal you,” Beelzebub told him, “We zhould go.”

Lucifer nodded and was helped to rise, but before they could start back downstairs, Lucifer grabbed Kral’s arm and yanked the other into a somewhat clumsy embrace.   
“Brother… be happy,” he whispered, and then they were gone. 

Aziraphale and Crowley sat there on the pavement for a second before both turned to one another and began to laugh. First it started as a giggle and then a much harder laugh, and then the two were almost hysterically sobbing as they laugh-cried while embracing each other. 

Finally, finally, they were both free of their head offices. Aziraphale was a cherub again and Crowley was now one of three King’s of Hell. An odd ending to a would-be Armageddon for sure, but Earth was safe now and neither Heaven nor Hell would be checking in with them. Not in the official capacity at least. They were free. Free to be with each other in whatever sense they wanted to. It was glorious. 

“Uh, just so you know, I am so, so confused right now,” came the voice of Anathema Device, the human who had come to their aid. 

“Thank you for helping us,” Aziraphale told them as he gently assisted Crowley in rising to his feet. 

The demon was still very shaky, but he was alive and whole, and the angel couldn’t ask for more. 

“We didn’t really do much,” Newt shrugged.

“You did enough,” Crowley smiled.

“Well, we ought to be getting home then,” Shadwell huffed and started back towards the car.

The three shrugged and followed him, all feeling a tad… lost, but satisfied. For now, the Earth would be around for at least, a little while longer. 

“Now, what do you say we also head home, hmm?” Aziraphale smiled as his darling husband who sighed and leaned into the angel, exhausted. 

“Home sounds wonderful,” Kral admitted, “but I don’t think either of us have enough energy for that right now.”

“True, how about we take the bus?”

Kral and Aziraphale hobbled over to the bus stop near the airport, and because they expected a bus to be there, it was. Carefully and gently, Aziraphale assisted Crowley onto the large double decker boss that strangely didn’t have a single person on it aside from the driver who looked very confused to be all the way in Tadfield.

“To Soho please,” Aziraphale told him and so the driver started towards Soho.

“Poor guy,” Crowley snorted as he lowered himself carefully down onto a nearby seat. “He’s got a long evening ahead of him.”

“I’ll pay him well,” Aziraphale smirked.

“Bastard,” Crowley teased playfully.

“For you alone,” the angel smiled.

Crowley smiled back and leaned to rest against the angel’s shoulder, closing his eyes. He could easily sleep for another century, but he wouldn’t. Not this time. Because now he had a reason to stay awake. Now, he has Aziraphale. 

“Angel.”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Aziraphale smiled and wrapped an arm around his demon.

“And I love you my dear one, my husband, very, very much.”


	38. After the End, A new Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life continues...

After the Apoca-Not, things changed.

Hell and Heaven called a strained truce, with both sides contemplating the advantages and disadvantages concerning the possibility that an agent of hell might form a partnership-of-sorts with an agent of heaven, to better guide the humans in their God-gifted free will. 

Not all angels and demons were on board with the idea, which was to be expected. Crowley did not expect something that had been nearly unthinkable before, to happen overnight. For now, both Heaven and Hell agreed that angels and demons should focus their attention on living amongst the humans to better understand why Earth is so very special and should not be destroyed in a pretentious war (Aziraphale’s words). 

More ethereal beings had volunteered for the experiment than Crowley would have thought, and it pleased him. Perhaps there was hope for Heaven and Hell yet. Maybe through all of this, the two sides would find some common ground. It was a long shot of course, thousands of years of bitterness and painful history don’t just vanish, but it’s a start. 

In Hell, the demons seemed to easily accept that Lucifer was no longer their only King. They certainly had no trouble accepting Beelzebub, and oddly enough, most were perfectly fine with Kral. The Serpentine Prince had always been rather infamous down below and respected if not entirely feared, so to think that the legendary demon was suddenly made into one of the three new Kings of Hell, wasn’t hard for most demons to wrap their minds around. That didn’t mean there weren’t those who argued against it, but when reminded quite firmly by both Lucifer and Beelzebub that technically Kral was now the leader of Hell, having won the right to rule fair and square, well… what could be said? 

It went a lot more smoothly than Kral had imagined. 

Lucifer himself had decided to join the earth-experiment and went to the United States as Crowley had suggested. Last he’d heard, his brother was living up the high life in California, running a night club of all things, but it suited him, and he was happy, so win-win. 

Beelzebub as discussed stayed down below, which she was perfectly fine with. While she didn’t mind the idea of the surface world, she had no true interest in anything outside her usual managerial duties. She was perfectly content to be amongst the riff-raff and see to it that Hell, despite becoming a tad cleaner and a tad less violent, kept their focus on the newly built “Mind-Scapes”. These were individual cells that housed human souls who basically, tortured themselves without much demonic assistance. It certainly made it easier for Beelzebub to manage all the souls and demons with a much more organized and hands-off approach. 

And as for Kral, well, he was the King above as agreed. Living happily with his angelic husband, Kral was now an impromptu advisor (and idol) to the demons who came up for demonic missions or perhaps just to ask questions to learn more. Kral loved questions and welcomed each without any form of judgement, so long as they understood that in the bookshop there were certain rules that all ‘Guests’ had to follow. 

First, DO NOT TOUCH THE BOOKS. At least not without permission of the owner.

Second, DO NOT MESS WITH THE SNAKE WHEN IT IS SLEEPING. Kral does not like to be poked mid nap.

Third, ALL QUESTIONS ARE WELCOME. However, take care with how you request answers. Rudeness will not be tolerated. 

Fourth, THE BOOKSHOP IS SANCTUARY. Anyone in the bookshop is off limits from any demonic or angelic pursuits. Period. If you break this rule, you will be banned permanently with a nice little blessing or curse to follow you around for an extended period. Or banished someplace decidedly not nice. Or smote. Possibly all three. So yes, do not attack or try anything on anyone who is in the bookshop. 

Lastly, WHEN THE BOOKSHOP CLOSES, GET OUT! Unless permission is given to stick around, the owner and his husband want their private time. So, shove off. 

The rules were simple, and the demons quickly learned exactly what breaking one of them entails. 

Let’s just say that it wasn’t often that a rule was broken. 

It also wasn’t long before word spread both above and below, and the bookshop became a strange form of neutral ground between the agents of Heaven and Hell under the watchful eye of the shops proprietors.

Angels for the most part, were very used to following rules, so they rarely caused any problems. The occasional angel might get a tad too curious for their own good at times and inevitably break a rule, but they soon learned just as quickly as the demons, that the rules in the bookshop were NOT meant to be bent or broken. 

Heaven had fallen into a calm state since the events in Tadfield with Adam. Michael was keeping a closer eye on Earth missions and the other Archangels had all agreed that for now, they would attempt to create a new system, one still honoring God, but one that also allows all angels the right and freedom to make their own choices, though with understood consequences should they make a wrong one. Oddly enough, Uriel was one of the leading voices for this change and soon became one Heaven’s first official Judges. 

As Kral served as the demonic ambassador towards Heaven, Aziraphale served as the angelic ambassador towards Hell. This meant that on occasion both would go to the other sides for a while for meetings now and again, but never alone. Always together. Though they were appreciative of the sincere promises of protection, one never went far without the other. Six thousand years of hiding was a hard habit to break, and now that they were together, well, they did not feel comfortable being apart, the opinions of Heaven and Hell be damned. 

In Hell, a new Dark Council had been created per Kral’s suggestion. Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Kral were the obvious members, but aside from the King’s, Prince Azazel, Prince Asmodeus, Marquis Lilith, Marquis Dagon, Prince Abaddon, and Duke Hastur were chosen. While Kral didn’t like Hastur, the other was the second most experienced Earth field agent and so Lucifer and Beelzebub agreed that for now at least, having a second opinion about Earth and its occupants might be valuable. 

In Heaven, also at Crowley and Aziraphale’s prompting, Michael created a new High Council. Of course, made up of the Archangels Michael, Raphael, Zadkiel, Cassiel, Uriel, Sandalphon, Gabriel (a grudging participant), and two of their own more experienced field agents, Raizel (who up until this time had been under probation for his decision to place knowledge in human hands against the law of Heaven), and Jerel, Aziraphale’s fill-in who had been sent to earth when the angel was discorporated from time to time. 

It was between these two councils that Cherub Aziraphale, Warrior of God, Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden, and Ambassador of Heaven, and Kral, King of Hell, Architect of Original Sin, and Ambassador of Hell, found themselves oddly satisfied playing the part of the peacekeepers. Earth was now considered, at least temporarily, somewhat of a neutral ground. It wouldn’t be easy for either side in the coming years, but both had faith in Her Ineffable Plan that somehow it would all work out as it inevitably should.

Earth, never to be forgotten, was not without its own Ambassador of course. With everything that happened, it was agreed that the humans who played a part in stopping the War should also have some say, or at least be kept in the loop about the decisions Heaven and Hell make concerning Earth. 

At its forefront, Adam of course, was the chief Representative. Though his powers grew weaker with each passing day, his mind retained the overwhelming knowledge of the Universe. He was, in simple terms, the perfect Consultant should Kral or Aziraphale need some advice of their own. Though he be but a child, the most complicated of situations can seem so simple, through the eyes of the innocent.

At Adam’s side was Anathema and Newton who had begun to date shortly after the ArmaNOPE events, and of course, can’t forget Tracy and Shadwell. Though it was understood that one day these humans would pass on; for now, they remained a new constant in the lives of the supernaturals, and both sides were sworn to come to their aid should the humans ever request their assistance. 

For God so Loved the World. And now they would carry out that Love.

~~

“Politics make me exhausted, angel.”

Crowley groaned and laid out on their bed, his eyes already slipping closed despite it being only noon. Aziraphale just chuckled, eyes warm and fond from where he sat on the corner of the bed with a book in his hands. 

The serpent with his long lean body laid out beside him, all sharp edges, and graceful curves. Pale skin that seemed to shimmer with continued flashes of starlight long after having shifted out of his true form. The way his hair was now reminded Aziraphale of when they had first met upon the wall of Eden. How it reached past bony shoulders and splayed out around his head on the pillow, like a crown of glorious fire. 

“So beautiful,” Aziraphale breathed with affection, taking it all in. 

“Hmm?” Crowley cracked open one yellow-amber serpentine eye. 

“D’d ya say s’mthn?” he slurred, having been nearly asleep. 

“I said, you are so very beautiful, my love,” Aziraphale repeated, louder this time and with a beatific smile of his own before returning to the page he had bookmarked. 

Crowley laid there a moment, eyes now wide open, his body stiff, before it seemed to relax suddenly as the demon turned and eyed his husband both appreciatively and a tad apprehensively. 

“Aziraphale…”

The angel blinked, drawing back from his reading but not yet looking at him. “Yes, my love?”

Crowley chewed his lip. Since the events that stopped the world ending, the two of them had settled into a comfortable living arrangement within the bookshop. Crowley had quite easily sold his flat in Mayfair and moved in upstairs above the shop, not wanting to be away from his husband now that they were free to do so. And Aziraphale had made ample space for all of Crowley’s personal belongings, as excited and willing as Crowley, to finally live together. It was rather amazing how easily the two had meshed their lives together these past few weeks, and yet… 

“Angel.”

Aziraphale finally looked up from his book, his gaze sincere as he waited for the Serpent to speak his mind. 

“I love you,” the demon breathed.

“I love you too my darling,” Aziraphale smile, but the smile didn’t quite meet his eyes as he looked over his beloved and noticed the other’s nervous tick. The way Crowley chewed on his lower lip and the way his eyes shifted back and forth without ever really settling on any person or thing. Something was wrong.

“My darling, what is it?” he asked, setting the book aside. “Is something the matter, sweetheart?”

The demon seemed to take a deep exhale and then finally met the angel’s gaze. Aziraphale ran his own eyes over the other’s face, noticing the way it seemed far paler than usual, and the way his husband seemed to be somehow sweating. A very rare thing for a cold-blooded snake. 

“I was thinking… I… well that is, ngk,” Crowley growled, frustrated.

Emotions still were not easy for the demon to deal with, despite seven millennia of trying to manage them without much success. Aziraphale knew this, and he waited patiently. 

“I suppose actions always speaker louder than words,” Crowley grumbled, and then with the determined set of his shoulders, he pushed forward and crushed his mouth, forked tongue and all, into Aziraphale’s. 

It was heated and desperate and loving and intimate. It was, in simple terms, the dirtiest and purest thing Aziraphale had ever experienced. 

“Oh,” the angel breathed when Crowley finally drew back from him. 

The demon’s cheeks were a beautiful flushed shade of pink and his snake eyes completely yellow. Aziraphale took a moment to just appreciate the beauty of his demon, only briefly skimming a glance over the ear that had been partially ripped off by Lucifer. It was no longer whole despite being healed, but it did nothing to diminish the beauty of his ridiculously adorable Serpent. If anything, it just added a bit more mystery to the already incomprehensible Anthony J. Crowley. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed again, and he smiled. “My dearest Crowley, if you wanted more from me … I would be happy to give it to you. You needn’t have fretted over something so simple.”

The demon scowled playfully, but a true shadow of old hurt seemed to linger within his gaze, and Aziraphale felt his own heart skip a beat. 

“Perhaps this is simple to you, Angel, but I…” the demon huffed irritably, frustrated that he couldn’t seem to express himself the way he wanted to. “I… I’ve always dreamed of this day, with you, but… I never thought it would actually happen. That we would be free too… you know. And now with Heaven and Hell trying to work out peace, it just… it all feels like a dream. Like the past six thousand years we were on this planet suddenly feels so… inconsequential. And yet those years, meeting you, seeing you, loving you… even in secret, I just… I don’t feel… real. Does that make sense?”

Aziraphale hummed. 

“I think so. I also don’t think it’s a bad thing that you feel like that, my love. It just means your adjusting. And if you say this doesn’t feel real to you, being here with me now, well… I can think of a few ways to help bolster the idea that I am very real, and that you my dear, are very, very real. Ideas to help perhaps, not only the mind… but the body.”

Crowley squeaked as soft hands suddenly shoved the demon down onto the mattress, and his beautiful bastard angel chuckled, the traitor, as his blue eyes suddenly seemed much more focused, far more than they have ever seemed while reading a book or making tea, from up above. The intensity of his affection was breathtaking, and Crowley shivered under its weight. 

“Just relax my darling Crowley, and let me prove to you that we are together in the here and now, and that I-,” Aziraphale pressed close and planted a soft, gentle kiss upon the demon’s forehead, “-love you,” another kiss on the demon’s cheeks, “-so very, very,” another kiss on the demons nose, “-very, very much.”

Aziraphale smiled, his body now framing the demon’s smaller one as the angel looked down upon his beloved who stared right back up, eyes wide and filled with swirling depths of unbelievable and indescribable devotion. 

“So gorgeous, my dear,” the angel breathed.

“I love you Aziraphale,” the demon whispered and lunged forward, smashing his lips to his husband’s as he dragged the heavenly being down upon him, chest against chest. “I want you, angel, claim me, mark me, I need… I need to feel you. I need to know you’re here, with me. Mine. Your mine, and I’m yours. Always”

Aziraphale has denied himself many things over the past six millennia. He had denied himself to enjoy Earth’s pleasures, denied himself the right to show love and tenderness to needy humans, denied himself the right to stand up for himself against the Archangels, denied himself food, denied himself joy, denied himself in every possible way imaginable at one time or another, but the worst thing he ever denied himself, was true love. Was Crowley. 

He had denied to himself every possibility that he could ever have a life with Crowley. That a demon could not possibly love anything, let alone an Angel. That a demon was unworthy of Her and her mercy and therefore unworthy of him and his own affections. That his own love and affection for said demon that did exist, would lead to his Fall. He denied Crowley as much as he denied himself. Again, and again, until both angel and demon lived with bruises spirits and bleeding hearts.

No more.

That night, as Crowley lay beneath him, gasping, moaning, and shuddering with pleasure and pain, Aziraphale realized just how foolish he’d been over the years. Just how undeniably stupid each thought and each fear about what punishment might have been dealt to them for such love, truly was. That his fear of Her opinion, and fear of his own affections, and the love of this beautiful, ridiculously sexy demon, would ever cause Aziraphale to become tainted. 

Foolishness. Utter Foolishness. 

Because here, in Crowley’s arms, taking Crowley as his own, and giving himself to his beloved in return; there is nothing more holy. Nothing more divine. Nothing more pure. Love, he realized, was a gift from God. And to love someone and be loved in return, the greatest of blessings. It never matted WHAT Crowley was, but only WHO Crowley was. It never mattered that they were on opposite sides. It never mattered what Crowley Fell for (though it still hurt that his beloved had been betrayed as he had). What mattered was that here and now, Aziraphale and Crowley loved one another and were willing to proclaim it before God and everybody. 

Their love was right. 

There had never been anything to fear.

Okay so yes, perhaps Falling is still a very real possibility, but Aziraphale knew now that he would never Fall for love. And even if he did, even if right this minute, God were to look upon their union and cast him down for loving Crowley, he didn’t care. He Loved God, but he also Loves Crowley. So, if he falls, he falls. 

Because Crowley is worth Loving. 

Crowley is worth taking a risk.

Crowley is worth Falling over.


	39. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End! … At least for a while? XD 
> 
> I may write a sequel. Let me know what you think!

In the heart of Soho, there is an old antique bookshop. It opens at random hours and closes once the proprietor is satisfied with having completed his ‘daily ounce of charity’, allowing the residents of Soho to passively gaze upon his beautiful collection. 

Sometimes a lost individual can go in and find help. Sometimes a heart screams that the shop is a safe place and they feel led to the double doors without knowing why. Other people just need some advice and feel a strange pull to go in the shop’s direction. Other still merely want to talk to someone who might be able to understand their feelings and so there they are, often without rational thought. In this regard, the bookshop is always open and there for those seem to need it at exactly the right time. All are free to enter in, either to read, to talk, to sit, to rest, or to study, but certainly, never to buy anything. Should you attempt to buy something, well… there are horror stories. 

If the bookshop owner Aziph Z. Fell doesn’t somehow persuade you out of buying one of his precious rare treasures, then you will undoubtedly leave the shop screaming and running for your bloody life as a long giant red bellied black snake (and aren’t those venomous?!) chases after you. 

So yeah, horror stories, and they only get more theatrical with each telling, as ‘shop survivors’ document online, their experiences. 

“Get this Aziraphale, one person says here, and I quote, “I nearly died in this shop. I walked in looking for a copy of Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare, calling out upon entering to see if I could gain some assistance in locating it, and the next thing I knew, something dropped from the ceiling. And there I beheld a giant serpent with blood running down the length of its body and eyes that seemed to stare into my soul. I shook and wept and tried to flee, but the snake was suddenly in front of me. I looked back and then the snake was there too! I screamed for help and tried to fight back. I brandished my shoe and ran for the door as the snake dodged my attack. I was almost there when something seemed to grab my wrist. I let out a startled cry and turned, only to wet myself when I turned and found what must have been a ghost! His hair was white and his eyes otherworldly. I attempted to flee again, but the thing wouldn’t let me go. I honestly do not remember how I finally was able to escape, but I am so glad I did. A. Z. Fell’s Bookshop is haunted, mark my words. Haunted!” Can you believe this guy?!”

Crowley was all but rolling on the floor laughing as Aziraphale sighed and simply sipped at his wine from the armchair. 

“Why do you even read those fantastical stories? Clearly I am not a ghost and you are not covered in blood, nor are you as fast nor giant enough to be in two places at the same time…” he paused before his eyes narrowed, “or are you?”

Crowley snorted. “Not really, but I can’t deny I cast amazing infernal illusions from time to time.”

“Crowley!”

“What? He was going to buy one of your books of Shakespeare, besides it’s not like he was hurt or anything. He just… won’t be coming back here anytime soon.”  
Aziraphale groaned. “And if this ghost story of his attracts unwanted attention?”

“Well obviously like you said Aziraphale, you aren’t a ghost and I am not quite that scary of a snake. Usually. So, if someone comes to investigate, well, they’ll find we aren’t quite as… horrific, as the human made us out to be.”

“You, my darling, are a wily old serpent.”

“Of course,” Crowley jeered, “and you, my lovely angel, are just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.”

Aziraphale snorted into his wine and Crowley chuckled as the red liquid lapped dangerously at the rim of the glass, but of course miraculously, not a single drop was spilt.  
“Besides, I could have just… let him buy the book.”

Aziraphale narrowed stormy blue eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

Crowley smirked before sighing significantly. “No, I suppose I wouldn’t.”

The angel scowled playfully, and the demon huffed a light laugh before a mischievous twinkle lit up serpentine eyes.

“You know Angel, there are other ways of driving customers out the door.”

“Hmm?” Aziraphale hummed, his closed as he savored his wine, enjoying the sweet and tangy flavor.

“Mmhmm,” Crowley leered at his darling angelic husband, “much more… corporeal wayssss.”

“Corpor-” Aziraphale choked, opening his eyes as he gasped.

Crowley grinned up at him from on the floor, kneeling, his hands touching slowly, carefully, teasingly. 

“Much more fun ways,” the demon tempted.

“Oh, you are wicked,” the angel groaned at the feel of his husband’s cool hands pressing, caressing.

“Absssssolutely,” the Serpent purred.

So perhaps, not all the horror stories about the bookshop necessarily have to do with snakes, ghosts, and angry shop owners. Either way, that small little shop on the corner of Soho has always been a secret treasure amongst the community in London. A small little shelter for those who need it, and a place of wonder and creative imagining for those seeking thrill. And of course, within that shop you will always find the beloved Mr. Fell, a real angel according to his neighbors and customers (so long as you don’t try to buy a book, that is). And as of late, always by his side or found napping in the back room, is his darling husband, the incredibly sexy and somewhat intimidating, Mr. Crowley. 

Perhaps the shop is magic, some say. A shop who, even it’s owners, live outside of time. Some believe it haunted. Others believe it a slice of heaven. Whatever it is, it’s always there and many believe it always will be. Most humans who visit the store and speak with its owners, would tell you in simple terms, that the shop is completely, undeniably, indisputably ineffable.


End file.
